
Book ' D-g 



THE 



TRAGEDIES OF SOPHOCLES, 



TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. 



BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE, B.A. 

OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 
VOL. I. 



LONDON: 
J. M. RICHARDSON, CORNHILL. 

1824. 



A 



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TO THE 

REV. ARTHUR WILLIAM TROLLOPE, DD. 

HEAD MASTER OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL, 

&f)te Cranslatton 

OF THE 

TRAGEDIES OF SOPHOCLES; 

AS A SINCERE, THOUGH INADEQUATE, ACKNOWLEDGEMENT 
OF EARLY AND ESSENTIAL OBLIGATIONS, 

IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 

BY HIS GRATEFUL PUPIL 

AND 

OBEDIENT SERVANT, 

THOMAS DALE. 



INTRODUCTION. 



To trace the gradual progress of any art or 
science, from the infancy of its institution to 
the perfection of its maturity ; — to behold the 
rude and shapeless materials, passing through 
successive stages of improvement, till, like the 
rough marble under the hands of the experi- 
enced sculptor, they are polished into beauty 
and moulded into symmetry ; — is one of the 
most interesting speculations that can occupy 
the reflecting mind. This remark applies with 
peculiar force to the Greek Tragic Drama; 
which, though mean almost beyond credibility 



viii INTRODUCTION. 

in its origin, attained, after the lapse of less 
than a century, the highest degree of splendour 
and magnificence. Indeed, if we may judge 
either from the avidity with which dramatic 
spectacles were anticipated by the Athenians — 
or from the immense expense which attended 
their celebration — it may fearlessly be pro- 
nounced, that in Tragedy, as well as in Paint- 
ing, Sculpture, and Music, the moderns were 
far excelled by their predecessors of antiquity. 

Two sources are assigned for the origin of 
the Greek drama. By some it is referred back 
to the Rhapsodists, or wandering bards, who 
were accustomed, in very remote ages, to travel 
from city to city, not only reciting their own 
compositions, but accompanying the recitation 
with correspondent gestures. Others, with 
greater probability, ascribe it to the festivals 
of Bacchus, at which, particularly in the 
villages, certain hymns were chanted in ho- 
nour of the God. In these the authors were 
accustomed to indulge in the keenest personal 



INTRODUCTION. ix 

invective against the wealthy and the covetous; 
and their compositions, thus flattering the de- 
mocratic, and, if we may be allowed the ex- 
pression, the levelling spirit of the Athenian 
populace, were received with general applause. 
In process of time, these hymns, which were, 
at first, only an adventitious appendage, be- 
came an integral part of the ceremony ; and, 
for the sake of exciting competition, a goat 
(rpccyog) was awarded as a prize to the com- 
poser of the best song (uS$) 9 whence arose the 
name, as well as the art, of Tragedy. 

These hymns, however, did not long conti- 
nue to be simply lyrical. Their wild and un- 
connected strains were gradually reduced to 
some degree of harmony and order ; a regular 
narrative of the exploits of the God was in- 
troduced ; and even this narrative was soon 
varied by the occasional substitution of an in- 
terlocutory personage. The intent of this new 
performer was, by diverting the attention of 
the audience from the immediate subject of 



x INTRODUCTION. 

the recitation, to keep awake their interest, 
and afford, at the same time, some interval of 
relief to the singer. It was at this era of the 
dramatic art, that Thespis, a native of a small 
borough in Attica, named Icaria, (cir. 540 
A.C.) gave the first distinguishing feature to 
Tragedy, by the introduction of an actor whose 
office it should be to personate some particular 
character; the interlocutor before-mentioned 
being merely a kind of low jester or buffoon. 
By this means, the Chorus became subordinate 
to the actor, instead of the actor to the Chorus. 
As yet, however, the only stage was a tempo- 
rary scaffold, erected on the cart of Thespis ; 
and the only disguise of the actor or actors 
was the lees of wine, with which their faces 
were besmeared. 

During the ensuing half century, little or 
no improvement appears to have been effected 
in the composition and exhibition of dramatic 
spectacles. The names, — and scarcely any 
thing beyond the names, — of some Tragedians 



INTRODUCTION. x i 

are recorded, among whom we may particu- 
larize Phrynichus. He changed the dithyram- 
bics into a species of verse more suitable to 
Tragedy, and made a few other alterations ; 
none, however, of sufficient importance to in- 
validate the claim of iEschylus to the honour- 
able appellation of ' Father of the Drama/ 

This great man was born of an illustrious 
family, in or about the sixty-third Olympiad, 
528 B.C. We are not informed of the circum- 
stances that first directed his attention to the 
dramatic art ; but it is recorded, that, before 
he attained his thirtieth year, he had both 
conceived and executed the arduous enterprize 
of redeeming Tragedy from the degraded state 
in which he found it, and exalting it to one of 
the highest pinnacles in the temple of literary 
fame. He first introduced a second and after- 
wards a third actor, thus varying the monotony 
of the former representations by dialogue ; he 
adorned the stage with suitable scenery, and 
arrayed the performers in appropriate habits. 



xii INTRODUCTION. 

In compliance with popular tradition, which 
assigned to the heroes of the ' olden time ' a 
loftier stature and more commanding aspect, 
he elevated his actors by the buskin, disguised 
them in the mask, and invested them with the 
insignia of royalty. He increased the number 
and prescribed the office of the Chorus ; pro- 
cured the erection of a spacious and commo- 
dious theatre, and reduced the drama nearly 
to that form in which it has descended to 
modern times. 

But Sophocles, the son of Sophilus, an 
Athenian, the date of whose birth is fixed at 
about thirty years posterior to that of iEschy- 
lus, was destined one day to rival, if not to 
eclipse, this great luminary. Endowed by 
nature with superior personal attractions, 
which were heightened and improved by the 
judicious management of his education, he 
became, in very early life, the object of po- 
pular attention and admiration. Among a 
chorus of chosen youths, who were celebrating 



INTRODUCTION. x iii 

around a trophy the battle of Salamis, he 
was pre-eminently conspicuous both for the 
elegance of his person, and the melody of his 
lyre. His skill in music seems to have pre- 
saged the harmony of those beautiful compo- 
sitions which he was one day to produce ; and 
his dexterity in the exercises of the Palaestra 
might well qualify him for that office, which 
necessarily devolved on all the Grecian drama- 
tists of those ages — to regulate the movements 
of the person, and direct the modulations of 
the voice, in their respective actors. He pur- 
sued, for a season, the track of lyric poetry ; 
but the bent of his genius directing him to a 
nobler species of composition, he boldly en- 
tered into competition with iEschylus, then in 
exclusive possession of the stage, and was de- 
clared victor by a plurality of voices in his 
very first attempt, when he was not more than 
twenty-five years of age. It is said, though 
there are substantial reasons for discrediting the 
account, that iEschylus, fired with indignation 



x i v INTRODUCTION. 

at the preference thus given to his rival, with- 
drew himself into Sicily. 

The improvements introduced by Sophocles 
into the drama, consisted principally in the 
superior dexterity with which he formed the 
plots of his tragedies, and the relation which he 
made the Chorus bear to the main action of the 
piece. The plots of iEschylus were extremely 
rude and inartificial ; often at war with nature, 
and sometimes scarcely reconcilable with pos- 
sibility. Sophocles studied nature. If he was 
not so conversant as his predecessor with the 
imaginary world ; if he did not invest with 
such superhuman attributes the heroes whom 
a superstitious veneration had exalted into 
Gods; at least he approached nearer to the 
true standard of mortality, and raised his cha- 
racters to that precise elevation, where they 
would neither be too lofty to excite sympathy, 
nor so familiar as to incur contempt. He 
never violates probability to produce effect ; 



INTRODUCTION. xv 

and if his heroes are less imposing and sublime, 
they are, at the same time, more interesting 
and natural than those of iEschylus. The part, 
also, which he causes the Chorus to sustain in 
the action imparts a peculiar finish to the 
piece. In short, whoever would contemplate 
the Greek drama in the meridian of its perfec- 
tion must contemplate it in the Tragedies of 
Sophocles. 

For, whatever be the merits of Euripides, 
(who was born about fourteen years after Sopho- 
cles, and commenced his theatrical career at the 
early age of eighteen,) however high be his repu- 
tation for pathos and purity of moral sentiment, 
he can hardly be said to have contributed, in 
any degree, towards the perfection of the dra- 
ma. His method of opening his plays by a 
species of Prologue, in which one of the prin- 
cipal characters tells the audience what may be 
very proper for them to know, but is not quite 
so proper for him or her to communicate, can- 
not be called an improvement ; in fact, generally 



xv i INTRODUCTION. 

speaking, nothing can be more unnatural and 
extravagant. His plots are sometimes even 
more barren and improbable than those of 
iEschylus ; his catastrophe occasionally feeble, 
and not seldom ridiculous. He is, it must 
be acknowledged, full of solemn and senten- 
tious maxims, but even these are frequently 
introduced in so awkward a manner, that their 
effect is materially invalidated, if not totally 
lost; while, by Sophocles, though of rarer 
occurrence, they are invariably displayed to 
the greatest advantage. Euripides interrupts 
the progress of his action, for the sole pur- 
pose of obtruding a prolix and unseasonable 
moral dissertation. Sophocles, with better 
judgement and more striking effect, deduces 
the moral from the event. In short, re- 
specting the rival merits of these three great 
poets, we can hardly venture to differ trom 
Aristophanes, who, in compliance with the 
common sentiment of the people, assigned the 
first place to iEschylus, the second to Sopho- 
cles, and the last to Euripides : though we 



INTRODUCTION. xv ji 

may, perhaps, be pardoned for suggesting a 
doubt whether iEschylus would have been 
considered the greatest, had he not been the 
first. 

It has already been intimated by what cir- 
cumstances the Chorus; — a branch of the 
Grecian drama, which the English reader will 
find some difficulty in tolerating ; — assumed so 
conspicuous a part. It is a relic, and, in fact, 
the sole surviving relic of the original poems. 
The complement of the Chorus varied at differ- 
ent periods. On one occasion iEschylus intro- 
duced no less than fifty upon the stage; but 
by a subsequent edict, the Chorus was limited 
to twelve; to which number, at the instance of 
Sophocles, were afterwards added three more. 
These fifteen persons were arranged five in 
depth and three in front; their motions were 
regulated by a flute-player, and their senti- 
ments were communicated, on all occasions, 
by their leader, denominated Coryphaeus or 
Choregus. Hence arises that apparent incon- 

b 



xviii INTRODUCTION. 

gruity, which will strike the English reader, 
that the Chorus are frequently addressed, 
and return their answer in the singular num- 
ber. The first instance of this seeming ano- 
maly occurs in the CEdipus Tyrannus, p. 29> 
where the Choregus, for himself and his asso- 
ciates, disclaims all participation in the death 
of Laius — 

Mighty King! 
So will I speak, as in thy curse involved ; 
I slew him not — 

While the choral odes were singing, the Chorus 
performed certain evolutions, marching with a 
kind of military step, and in the order above 
mentioned, first from right to left, whence the 
former division of the ode itself is called 
" Strophe ; " and then from left to right, 
whence the corresponding division is called 
" Antistrophe." During the " Epode," they 
stood still in the middle of the stage, on which 
they remained during the whole time of the 
representation, except when their absence was 



INTRODUCTION. x i x 

indispensably required; as in the Ajax, where 
the hero falls upon his sword, which occurrence 
could not take place in the presence of any 
witnesses. On the whole, however the Chorus 
may be at variance with the notions of the 
moderns, there can be no doubt that it was 
rather an ornament than an incumbrance to 
the ancient stage. It was generally the vehicle 
of those beautiful moral sentiments in which 
the Tragic poets delighted, and which justly 
elevated the dramatic performances of Greece 
to the dignity of a religious festival. 1 

It being the principal, or rather the exclu- 
sive design of these introductory remarks, to 



1 The Chorus, Francklin observes, as introduced by 
Sophocles, is composed of such persons as might naturally 
be supposed present on the occasion ; whose situations 
might so far interest them in the events of the Fable, as to 
render their presence useful and necessary ; and yet not so 
deeply concerned as to render them incapable of offering- 
useful reflections and giving advice, an office for which 
they were particularly appointed. 

b 2 



xx INTRODUCTION. 

clear up such difficulties as may present them- 
selves to a reader who is unacquainted with 
the peculiar customs of the Ancients, we shall 
not. consider it necessary to enter into a minute 
examination of the Greek Theatres. A full 
and satisfactory account of these, and all' par- 
ticulars connected with them, may be found 
either in Francklin's " Dissertation on Ancient 
Tragedy," or in the Travels of Anacharsis. 
We shall confine ourselves to a few concise 
remarks respecting the division and recitation 
of the plays, with a brief explanation of the 
" Unities/' 

The division into five acts; though, as we 
learn from the canon of Horace, 

Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu, 

it was prevalent among the Latins, appears to 
have been altogether unknown to the Greeks. 
The action was uniform and uninterrupted 
from the commencement to the catastrophe. 



INTRODUCTION. xxi 

This is evident, as well from the constant con- 
tinuance of the Chorus upon the stage, as from 
the difficulty of dividing any of the remaining 
Greek dramas into five acts, which shall bear 
any reasonable proportion to one another. The 
more natural division, and that which is sanc- 
tioned by the authority of Aristotle, is into 
Prologue, which extends from the opening of 
the drama to the first interlude or chorus ; 
Episode, which includes all between the first 
and last interludes ; Exode, which comprises 
the remainder from the last interlude to the 
close. Considering, however, the different ac- 
ceptation in which the word prologue is now 
used, it will perhaps be more intelligible to an 
English reader, if the whole drama be re- 
garded as one long piece of a single act. 

It cannot be decidedly pronounced whether 
the "iaftjGo/ (which, in the following translation, 
are rendered by the usual metre of tragedy, 
blank heroic verse,) were accompanied with 
music or not. The former supposition seems 



xx ii INTRODUCTION. 

the more probable, since music, according to 
Aristotle, was one of the essential parts of 
Tragedy. The recitation may possibly have 
been a kind of slow and solemn chant; — and 
wherever it is observed that sudden and abrupt 
transitions occur in the metre, a question or 
answer being frequently conveyed in a single 
word, there it may be supposed that the music 
was suddenly changed. It is certain that the 
Greek music possessed, in a peculiar degree, 
the power of expressing the passions; love, 
hatred, joy, sorrow, hope, fear, frenzy, jealousy, 
despair, were alternately depicted by its magic 
influence; and that too in such perfection, that 
the effect of even dramatic illusion would not 
for an instant be impeded or impaired. 

It will appear somewhat singular, that, with 
very little exception, the entire action of the 
play is supposed to pass in one and the same 
place : in the (Edipus Tyrannus, the Antigone, 
the Trachiniee, and the Electra, before the ves- 
tibule of a palace ; in the (Edipus Coloneus, on 



INTRODUCTION. xxiii 

the verge of a grove dedicated to the Furies ; 
in the Philoctetes, near a cave on the coast of 
Lemnos. This arises from the extreme rigour 
of the rules which the ancient dramatists pre- 
scribed to themselves, respecting what are 
called the Unities. These Unities are three- 
fold, — of Action, of Time, and of Place. We 
may define the Unity of Action to be, a con- 
centration of the interest into one or two prin- 
cipal characters, with such a continuity of it 
through the whole drama, that the spectators' 
thoughts may be exclusively directed to the 
developement of one catastrophe. Thus the 
detection of the guilt of CEdipus in one tragedy 
and his death in another; the execution of 
Creon's tyrannical edict on the generous and 
devoted Antigone; the destruction of Hercules 
by the malignant subtilty of the Centaur; the 
liberation of Philoctetes from his captivity in 
Lemnos; and the triumph of Electra and 
Orestes over the murderers of their father ; — 
these are the points on which our attention is 
riveted from the first ; and, in the tendency of 



xx i v INTRODUCTION. 

every incident to produce the anticipated result, 
the Unity of Action is exemplified. The only 
instance in which Sophocles has violated it 
appears in the Ajax, where the action is con- 
tinued after the death of the hero. This, how- 
ever, may be accounted for by the peculiarity 
of the heathen superstition respecting the in- 
terment of the dead. The Unity of Time 
requires that the whole action should be com- 
prised within the space between the rising and 
the setting of the sun. This rule Sophocles 
has disregarded in his Trachiniae, where the 
voyage to Euboea and back is performed 
during the representation, even in the short 
interval while the Chorus is singing an ode. 
The Unity of Place, as we have already inti- 
mated, confines the action to a single place; 
the exception to which rule occurs also in the 
Ajax, where indeed the nature of the action 
requires it, as the Chorus separates into two 
parties, each headed by a leader, in search of 
Ajax. It is, nevertheless, possible that the 
scene here may open, and discover Ajax be- 



INTRODUCTION. xxy 

hind. — The observance of these rules, it will 
readily be seen, must have been an oppressive 
and almost intolerable restraint on the " free 
flights" of genius; yet it is a circumstance 
highly creditable to Sophocles, that while he 
is more attentive to the Unities than either of 
his rival dramatists, his plots are more con- 
formable to probability, — his incidents more 
consistent with the tenor of real life. 

The Greeks had a great aversion to the in- 
troduction of many characters upon the stage 
at the same time. The general restriction in 
this respect, — we are not prepared to say that it 
may not have been violated in particular in- 
stances, — seems to have been, that there should 
not be more than three 2 actors, beside the Cho- 
rus, actually engaged in the dialogue ; and that, 
if the appearance of a greater number on the 



2 Nee quarta loqui peronsa laboret. — Hor. Ars. Poet. 
192 



xxvi INTRODUCTION. 

stage be absolutely indispensable, they should 
be merely " Mutae Personae," taking no part 
in the action. Such are Eurysaces in the 
Ajax, and Pylades in the Electra. It is evi- 
dently one of the principal reasons for this 
arrangement, that the favourite actor frequently 
supported, in the representation, more than one 
character. Thus, in the CEdipus Tyrannus, 
the same actor might have performed Creon 
and the Corinthian, who never appear together; 
in the Ajax, Agamemnon and Menelaus ; — by 
only changing the masks. The necessity for the 
use of masks will be doubly apparent, when it 
is remembered that the Greeks never admitted 
women on the stage; though it must seem 
wonderful how male performers could success- 
fully imitate that voice — 

Ever soft, 
Gentle, and low; an excellent thing- in woman. — 

But it is time that we return to Sophocles. 
We have already seen that Sophocles com- 



INTRODUCTION. xxv ii 

menced his poetical career by a victory over 
iEschylus. He pursued it with distinguished, 
though not invariable success, and, if one ac- 
count be credited, expired in the very arms of 
triumph. Though the number of his compo- 
sitions, to which the prize was awarded, is not 
stated to be the same by all authors, it is yet 
generally admitted, that he was more success- 
ful in proportion than either of his competi- 
tors. He is said to have produced on the 
whole one hundred and twenty tragedies, 
eighteen of which, or, according to others, 
twenty-four, were honoured with the palm; 
while but thirteen out of the hundred trage- 
dies of iEschylus were equally fortunate, and 
five only out of the eighty dramas which are 
attributed to Euripides. 

It is not, however, as a Poet alone that 
Sophocles is illustrious in the annals of his 
country; he was scarcely less eminent as a 
warrior. He was the companion in arms of 
Thucydides and of Pericles, with whom he 



xxviii INTRODUCTION. 

was associated in reducing to obedience the 
island of Samos. It is affirmed, that he was 
afterwards complimented with the government 
of this new conquest on the representation of 
his Antigone. — Sophocles was the only one of 
the three great Tragedians, who succeeded in 
preserving the attachment of a people so cha- 
racteristically fickle as the Athenians. iEschy- 
lus and Euripides both died in exile, while 
Sophocles, in full enjoyment of the love of his 
fellow-citizens, and with unabated poetical 
fervour, survived in the bosom of his country 
to an extreme old age. The only bitter ingre- 
dient which mingled in his overflowing cup of 
happiness was the ingratitude of his children, 
who accused him before the magistrates of 
being incompetent, by reason of the decay of 
his faculties, to the management of his own 
affairs. This accusation he triumphantly re- 
futed by reading to the judges his CEdipus at 
Colonos, one of the most interesting of his 
productions, and full of that calm and gentle 
beauty which might be expected from hisL age 



INTRODUCTION. xx j x 

and habits. The J marvellous incidents which 
are related by Plutarch, Cicero, and others, 
however unworthy of credit or repetition, are 
at least sufficient to prove that Sophocles, on 
account of the excellence of his character, was 
considered the peculiar favourite of the Gods. 
And as this great man had been fortunate in 
his life, so was he happy in his death; he had 
witnessed the glories of his country in the 
zenith of her grandeur, but he was spared the 
bitter pang of beholding her degradation. He 
expired but a short time before Athens was 
taken by Lysander, choked, as some relate, by 
a grapestone, or overpowered, according to 
others, by excess of joy on having obtained the 
prize. This latter account we are inclined to 
question, because his rivals iEschylus and 



3 Plutarch mentions that the God iEsculapius dwelt 
with Sophocles ; and Cicero relates, that a goblet having 
been stolen from the temple of Hercules, the thief was 
made known to the poet in a vision of the night, which was 
thrice repeated, till the booty was restored. 



XX1L INTRODUCTION. 

Euripides were already deceased, and had left 
behind them no antagonist over whom Sopho- 
cles could be honoured by a triumph. So high 
was the estimation in which this great man 
was held throughout Greece, that even the 
rough and perfidious Lysander intermitted for 
a short period the siege of Athens, that he 
might afford her citizens an opportunity of 
celebrating the obsequies of the last and most 
venerated of their bards. 



The most popular poetical translations of 
Sophocles are those of Francklin and of Potter. 
Both are possessed of merit, though in a very 
different degree. The former translation, which 
appeared in 17 59, is in many parts extremely 
loose and inaccurate. The pathetic simplicity 
of the original degenerates, in the translation, 
into a rude and insipid familiarity; nor does 
the translator seem to be aware, that a very 
literal rendering may be a very incorrect one. 
In the Choral Odes, Dr. Francklin has been 



INTRODUCTION. xxx i 

particularly unfortunate. Nevertheless, his 
work is entitled to considerable praise, as 
being the first successful attempt to clothe 
Sophocles " in an English habit/'' and thus 
recommend him to the perusal of those who 
were unacquainted with the language of the 
original. The notes, it may be added, convey 
much valuable information. 

The translation of Potter is highly finished 
and correct, and he may justly be said, in re- 
ference to his great original, to have been 

" True to his sense, but truer to his fame." 

It is in those very points, where Dr. Francklin 
had most conspicuously failed, that Potter 
most decidedly excels. His Choral Odes are 
distinguished by a judicious adaptation of 
metre, and a close adherence to the sense of 
the original ; nor does he ever deviate from the 
dignified tone of Tragedy. He is simple, with- 
out being familiar; faithful, without being 



xxx ii INTRODUCTION. 

insipid. He may perhaps be occasionally con- 
sidered deficient in spirit and animation; but 
if he rarely soars, at least he never sinks. In 
short, it may be pronounced, — and there can be 
no higher praise, — that the Translator is not 
unworthy of the Author. 

The reasons which prompted this new trans- 
lation, and the particulars in which it professes 
to differ from those which have preceded it, 
have already been submitted to the Public in a 
Prospectus; and, judging from the number and 
respectability of the Subscribers, it is presumed 
that they have not been unsatisfactory. The 
main object was there stated to be, " to render 
the diversified metres of the original by mea- 
sures as nearly corresponding as the genius of 
our language will permit." How far this 
object has been accomplished, it will remain 
for the Public to decide. 

Of the Notes which are appended to the pre- 



INTRODUCTION. xxxiii 

sent Translation, it may be necessary to state, 
that they are designed principally for the in- 
formation of the English reader. The greater 
part of them are borrowed from various authors ; 4 
and wherever a distinct acknowledgement has 
been accidentally omitted, it is hoped that this 
general recognition will redeem the Translator 
from the imputation of attempting to profit by 
the labours of others, without confessing his 
obligations. The few which are original have 
no pretensions to depth of erudition or acute- 
ness of conjecture; they are merely intended 
as illustrative or explanatory ; and their brevity 
will, it is trusted, be excused, by a considera- 
tion of the facility with which they might have 
been multiplied and enlarged. 

This Translation, originally undertaken merely 



4 The edition which has been taken for the basis of the 
present Work is that of Erfurdt ; though the text and an- 
notations of Brunck, Lobeck, and other Commentators 
have been diligently considered and compared. 



xxxiv INTRODUCTION. 

as an exercise for study in earlier days, was 
commenced and carried forward in the quiet 
seclusion of a College ; but, after having been 
abandoned for reasons which it is unnecessary 
to state, was resumed and completed in the 
few brief intervals which could be snatched from 
the avocations of a laborious profession. Could 
the difficulties have been foreseen, which have 
since obstructed its progress, it is probable that 
the work would never have been presented 
to the Public. But the highly respectable list 
of Subscribers at once invited and encouraged 
the best exertions of the Translator to redeem 
his pledge ; and, for this purpose, he has 
spared no pains in revising and correcting his 
first sketch, and endeavouring to express the 
sense of the original as closely as the idiom of 
the English language will allow. The time 
which has been devoted to the prosecution of 
his task has passed pleasantly, and, he would 
gladly persuade himself, not unprofitably ; for 
it is assuredly matter of more than mere curi- 
osity to observe, what opinions were entertain- 



INTRODUCTION. xxxv 

ed by the most enlightened people upon earth 
on the great subjects of Religion and Morality, 
centuries before the ' day-spring from on high' 
arose with the Gospel. If the polished Athe- 
nians are found to have mixed the most absurd 
puerilities with their civil and religious solem- 
nities, and occasionally to have combined pure 
and philosophical principles of morals with the 
most impure and inconsistent system of Poly- 
theism ; this consideration ought not only to 
excite our gratitude, for the transcendent advan- 
tages which we enjoy, but to awaken humility, 
when we reflect how grossly we have perverted, 
or how negligently improved them. And he 
who thus compares the heathen code of mo- 
rals with the divine institutes of Christianity 
will, we venture to predict, rise with no incon- 
siderable benefit from the perusal of the " Tra- 
gedies of Sophocles/' 



OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 



VOL. I. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 



When Laius, King of Thebes, upon his marriage 
with Jocasta, implored the Gods to bless their 
union with a numerous and happy offspring 1 , it 
was replied by the oracle, that Jupiter, incensed 
by the crimes of his ancestors, had assigned to 
him an only son, by whose hand the Fates had 
decreed that he should one day perish. The King, 
appalled by this inauspicious response, formed a 
solemn resolution never to approach Jocasta. In 
the reckless hardihood of intoxication, this resolu- 
tion was disregarded or forgotten, and Jocasta 
became the mother of a son, predestined, ere his- 
birth, to be the murderer of his father. 

b 2 



4 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Though deterred by the natural yearnings of 
maternal tenderness from executing in its full ex- 
tent the mandate of Laius, who had enjoined her 
to destroy the infant as soon as it was born, the 
Queen, nevertheless, delivered it to a confidential 
domestic, with a charge to expose it upon the moun- 
tains. The slave, in pbedience to this cruel and 
unnatural command, bored the infant's feet, and 
suspended it by the heels from a tree in the wild 
and unfrequented forests of Cithseron. In this 
condition the child was found by one of the shepherds 
of Polybus, King of Corinth, who, moved with com- 
passion, unbound the babe, carried it to Corinth, 
and presented it to the King, his master. Peri- 
bcea, the wife of Polybus, prevailed upon her 
husband, as they were childless, to adopt the 
infant ; who being, accordingly, received into the 
palace, was educated with the utmost care and 
tenderness, as the son of Polybus and Peribcea, and 
the destined inheritor of the crown of Corinth. 

It is unnecessary, even for the information of 
the English reader, to pursue the narrative beyond 
this point, since all the subsequent events of the 
life of CEdipus are incidentally developed by him- 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 5 

self in the progress of the drama. Suffice it, 
therefore, to premise, that, at the period from 
which the action commences, (Edipus is supposed 
to have swayed the sceptre of Thebes for many 
years, loving his people, and not less beloved by 
them, happy in an affectionate consort, a flourishing 
race of children, a loyal and devoted friend. But 
a dark and lowering cloud has begun to overcast 
this hitherto calm and unclouded sky : Thebes is 
visited by a pestilential disorder, universally ascribed 
to the anger of the Gods ; though the cause of 
their indignation is enveloped in a mysterious and 
total obscurity. The baleful effects of this penal 
visitation are most pathetically described in the 
opening scene. Henceforth, the history of (Edi- 
pus proceeds collaterally with the business of the 
piece. 

This tragedy has been honoured with the con- 
current approbation of the most acute and judici- 
ous critics of every age : it was adopted by Aris- 
totle as a perfect model of dramatic excellence, 
and few of the modern commentators have been 
less enthusiastic in their encomiums. It is affirmed 
to bear the same relation to tragic, which the Iliad 



6 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

bears to epic poetry. It is said to stand alone and 
unrivalled, while all other efforts of tragic writers 
can only be successful in proportion as they ap- 
proximate more or less to this, their common 
standard and criterion. 

Indeed, when we consider the admirable dex- 
terity which is evinced in the mechanism of the 
piece, the mutual consistency and harmonious 
combination of its parts, the gradual and progres- 
sive developement of the various circumstances 
which unite to elicit the catastrophe, it must be 
acknowledged that this tragedy is absolutely perfect. 
Not an incident occurs, however trivial in appear- 
ance, which does not conduce to some appropriate 
and important end ; not a character is introduced 
which does not sustain some part of vital and essen- 
tial interest in the grand business of the drama. The 
poet never loses sight of the end in the prosecution of 
the means. If a momentary hope be excited, it tends 
but to deepen the impending and inevitable 
despair ; if a ray of light dart rapidly athwart the 
gloom, it only displays, in all its horror, the ap- 
proaching " blackness of darkness." The denun- 
ciations of (Edipus against the criminal, so worded 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 7 

from the first as to apply peculiarly to himself; 
the ambiguous response brought by Creon from 
the oracle of Delphi ; the reluctant compliance of 
Tiresias with the first summons of the monarch, as 
though he were constrained by some mighty and 
mysterious agency, which he vainly struggled to 
control ; his subsequent vehemence of prophetic 
indignation ; the profane and arrogant exultation 
which bursts from Jocasta on the apparent confutation 
of the oracle by the death of Polybus ; the faint 
solitary hope, to which the shuddering monarch 
clings in that pause of agonizing suspense, while 
he is awaiting the arrival of the Theban slave; 
the resistless and overwhelming conviction which 
flashes upon his soul at the clear unequivocal testi- 
mony of this last fatal witness ; all these circum- 
stances are successively described in a manner so 
lively and natural, that the interest never lan- 
guishes for an instant. We are prepossessed from 
the first in favour of the unhappy prince ; we feel 
with him and for him ; we are continually agitated 
between hope and fear; and, though we know 
from the beginning that the catastrophe is inevita- 
ble, we are scarcely less startled and surprised by 



8 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

the appalling discovery, than if it had been totally- 
unexpected and unforeseen. 

Another point in which the poet has displayed 
his consummate acquaintance with the nicest re- 
finement of his art, is the delineation of the cha- 
racter of (Edipus. Had this devoted monarch 
been represented altogether without blemish, we 
might have pitied his sorrows, but we could 
not have sympathised with them : had he been 
pourtrayed as an utterly abandoned criminal, we 
could neither have sympathised with him nor 
pitied him. We feel, comparatively, but little 
interest in characters which rise far above, or sink 
greatly below, the common level of mankind ; the 
former excite our indifference, — the latter, our dis- 
gust. But (Edipus, unlike the heroes of modern 
tragedy, neither sins like a demon, nor suffers like 
a God. 1 He is in all things a perfectly human 
character, a being of like passions with ourselves, 
not free from faults, yet " more sinned against 



Aristotle, Poetics, xxv. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 9 

than sinning," — not wholly undeserving of censure, 
yet far more unfortunate than culpable. Such is 
man. Mentem mortalia tangunt. 

We cannot, however, forbear to record our dis- 
sent from one eulogy of Sophocles, which, notwith- 
standing, has been pronounced by no mean authority. 
" Never," it has been said, " was there a tale 
more affecting than that of (Edipus, and never 
was it told more pathetically than by Sophocles." * 
In the former part of this panegyric we cannot 
acquiesce ; on the contrary, we consider the tale, on 
which the drama is founded, as altogether repugnant 
and revolting to the best and finest feelings of our 
nature ; and in no one instance is the genius of 
Sophocles so transcendently triumphant, as in the 
consummate address with which he has treated 
a subject calculated, in less powerful hands, to 
awaken only the strongest emotions of horror, in- 
dignation, and disgust. But the master-spirit of 
the great poet has tempered the revolting details 
of his plot with so much pure human feeling, such 



2 Knox's Essays, No. clxxvi. 



10 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

pathetic and redeeming- benevolence, that our sym- 
pathy is never for an instant checked by abhor- 
rence, or superseded by disgust. We forget the 
crimes of CEdipus in his misfortunes ; nor do we 
so much regard the murderer, the parricide, the 
tS zra,Tpog ofxoa-Tropog, as the dethroned monarch, 
— the blind, self-devoted, and despairing out- 
cast, — the affectionate and miserable father, who, 
though his children survive, is yet worse than 
childless, for they only survive to misery, and of 
that misery he is the cause ! 

But it would be unpardonable in a Christian 
writer, while commenting upon this drama, to pass 
lightly over that which Sophocles himself claimed as 
the brightest ornament of his native Athens, 3 and 
which constitutes not the least interesting feature in 
his own immortal dramas, — a pious and devout reve- 
rence for the Gods. The chorus in this tragedy 
nobly sustain their dignified character. Venerable 
alike for age and virtue, they will not suffer to pass 
unnoticed or unreproved the unguarded exclamations 



CEdip. Colon. 1005. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. H 

even of the monarch whom they revere and love. 
The choral hymns breathe a beautiful spirit of 
meek and holy feeling, coupled with the most 
poetic elevation of sentiment, and interspersed with 
pathetic appeals to Heaven to avert its vengeance from 
their country and their King. And we trust it will not 
be deemed intrusive or irrelevant, if we seize the op- 
portunity of drawing, not from this drama alone, 
but from the collective works of Sophocles, the 
following moral conclusion: that if, under the 
disadvantages of a confused and complicated my- 
thology, and at a period when, with respect to 
religious truth, " darkness covered the earth and 
gross darkness the people," — if a heathen poet could 
then inculcate the fear of the Gods as the most exalted 
virtue and the most imperative duty, how ought 
we to evince, by our more rigid and enlightened 
observance of the same precept, that " the dark- 
ness is past, and the true light now shineth," — ■ 
that, as our knowledge is more extensive than was 
that of the heathen, so is our piety more fervent, 
our morality more pure, our practice more virtuous 
and irreproachable. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



(Edipus, King of Thebes. 

Priest of Jupiter. 

Creon, Brother of Jocasta. 

Tiresias. 

Jocasta, Wife of (Edipus. 

Corinthian. 

Herdsman. 

Messenger. 

Chorus of aged Thebans. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 



Scene — Thebes, before the Palace of (Edipus. 

OEDIPUS. THEBANS. 

(Ed. Why, O my children, from the ancient stock 
Of Cadmus sprung, why haste ye to these seats 
Bearing the suppliant branches ? ' Incense breathes 
Through all the town, and votive paeans blend 
With deep and bitter waitings . O my people, 
I could not learn your woes from other lips, 



1 Suppliants, whether they addressed themselves to Gods 
or men, were accustomed to bear in their hands olive-branches 
tipped with wool, called, by the Greeks, re^arct, by the 
Latins, velamina. 



14 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

But came in person, (Edipus, your King ! 

A name to all illustrious. Say, old man — 

Thine age demands such reverence — wherefore thus 

Ye bend imploring ? Dread ye future ills, 

Or strive with present griefs ? My will is prompt 

To aid in all :— obdurate were my heart 

Could I behold a sight like this unmoved. 

Pr. O (Edipus, imperial lord of Thebes ! 
Thou seest our sad estate, and how we sit 
Before thine altars ; a some, whose callow wings 
Refuse a lengthened flight ; — some, bowed with age, 
Priests of the Gods — myself the Priest of Jove, 
And some, the flower of all our Theban youth. 
Another band their suppliant boughs extend 
At the two fanes of Pallas, 5 and the shrine 
Oracular, by fair Ismenus' stream. 
The state — as thou may'st witness — with the storm 



2 The altars here intended were not consecrated to (Edipus, 
but simply erected before the doors of his palace, and, most 
probably, dedicated to Apollo. 

3 In Thebes, there were two temples of Minerva erected 
to her under the names of Oncaea and Ismenia. Apollo had 
a temple on the banks of the Ismenus, and from the flames 
and ashes of its altars his priests drew prophecies ; hence 
'io-pjm c-Tro&y, the prophetic ashes of Ismenus. 



1EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 15 

Is struggling, and in vain essays- to rear 

Her head emergent from the blood-stained wave. 

Her fruits are blasted in the opening bud ; 

Her herds, infected, perish ; her weak births 

Are blighted immature. The fiery God, 4 

Loathed Pestilence, o'er this devoted city 

Hangs imminent, and desolates th' abode 

Of Cadmus, while in shrieks and piercing groans 

Dark Pluto richly revels. Hence I bend, 

With these sad youths, a suppliant at thine altars ; 

Not that we deem thee equal to the Gods, 

But in the sad vicissitudes of life, 

Or visitations of the angry Gods, 

Account thee first of men. At Thebes arriving, 

Thou didst redeem us from the tax imposed 

By that relentless monster, 5 uninformed, 

Untaught of us ; by pitying Heaven alone 

We deem thee sent our glory to restore. 



4 The " fiery God," according to Musgrave, is Mars. 
The ground of his conjecture is the application of the epithet 
•an f6ui to the planet bearing the name of that divinity. It 
appears more probable, however, that the expression poeti- 
cally denotes a personification of Pestilence. 

5 'Aoi&jD, literally, songstress ; so called, because her enig- 
mas were propounded in verse. 



16 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Now, worthiest (Edipus ! on thee we fix 

Our supplicating eyes, — O find us aid, 

Or from the sure responses of the Gods, 

Or man's experienced wisdom. Oft we see 

That prudent counsels, e'en in deadliest ills, 

Impart returning life. Noblest of men 

Arise, once more the drooping state revive, 

Arise, and wisdom guide thee ! Though our realm 

Hails thee her great Deliverer for the deeds 

Of other days, no more can we recall 

Thy happier sway — if, once by thee preserved, 

Again we sink in ruin. Then restore 

Our rescued state to safety ; and as erst 

With happiest omens thou didst rise and save, 

So be again thyself. Still o'er this land 

Wouldst thou bear sway, — 'tis better far to rule 

O'er peopled cities, than deserted realms. 

6 Nought can strong tower or stately ship avails 

If nobler man, the soul of each, be wanting. 

6 The same thought has been beautifully imitated, we might 
almost say translated, by Sir William Jones. 

What constitutes a state ? 
Not high-raised battlements, or laboured mound, 

Thick wall, or moated gate : 
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned, 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 17 

(Ed. O my afflicted people, but too well 
I know the purport of your prayers ; I know 
Your common sufferings ; yet, 'mid all your woes, 
None mourns so deeply as your pitying monarch : 
Each o'er his own peculiar misery weeps, 
Nor thinks of others' pain ; — my heart is wrung 
At once for you, the city, and myself. 
Nor do ye rouse me now from reckless sleep ; 
Know, many tears your King hath shed for you, 
And traversed many a path in thought's wild maze, 
One remedy alone my search discerned ; 
This I at once applied. The noble Creon, 
Menceceus' son, my kinsman, 7 have I sent 
To Phoebus' Pythian shrine, charged to demand 
How I may save the state by word or deed. 
Now, as I reckon the revolving days, 
The strange delay alarms me ; for his stay 
Hath passed the allotted term. When he arrives, 



Not bays, and broad-armed ports 
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride : 
No ; — men, high-minded men. 
7 r«/*jSgof. The Greeks restrict this term, in its proper and 
peculiar sense, to those who are connected by ties of affinity, 
but not by blood, though it is occasionally taken, in a 
general sense, to express both. 

VOL. I. C 



18 CEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 

If I perform not all the God ordains, 
Account your monarch basest of mankind. 

Pr. Well hast thou said, O King ! These youths 
proclaim 
The wished approach of Creon. 

(Ed. Royal Phoebus, 
Grant he return with tidings not less glad, 
Than the fair promise of his brightening eye. 

Pr. He seems indeed exultant, or his brow 
With the rich laurel were not thus enwreathed. 8 

(Ed. Soon shall we learn ; our voice can reach 
him now. 

Enter Creon. 



(EDIPUS, CREON, PRIEST, THEBANS. 

(Ed. Prince, our loved kinsman, great Menoeceus' 
son, 
What answer bring'st thou from the God to Thebes ? 

Cr. Auspicious tidings ; e'en our present ills, 
If guided well, may yield a prosperous issue. 



8 Those who returned from the oracle of Delphi, with an 
auspicious answer, were crowned with wreaths of laurel. 



OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 19 

(Ed. What mean thy words ? Nor livelier hope 
I draw, 
Nor added terrors, from a speech like this. 

Cr. If 'mid this concourse thou wouldst hear, I 
stand 
Prepared to speak ; if not, to pass within. 

(Ed. Nay, speak to all. I count not life itself 
Of equal interest with my people's sorrow. 

Cr. Let me then tell the bidding of the God, 
4?hcebus hath straitly charged us to expel 
Our state's pollution, nurtured in its bosom ; 
Nor harbour guilt that cannot be forgiven. 

(Ed. What, then, is this mysterious guilt, and what 
The due atonement ? 

Cr. Exile from the land, 
Or death requiting death, since guiltless blood 
Troubles the state. 

(Ed. To whose disastrous fate 
Points this response ? 

Cr. O King, ere yet thy hand 
Assumed the helm of empire in our state, 
Laius was lord in Thebes. 

(Ed. Thus fame hath told me : — 
I ne'er beheld the monarch. 
Cr. He was slain ; 

c 2 



20 (EDIPITS TYRANNUS. 

And with no dubious voice the God enjoins 
On the fell murderers to avenge his death. 

(Ed. Where do they lurk ? and where shall we 
explore 
The path, so hard to trace, of guilt like this ? 

Cr. E'en in this land, he said, pursuit may soon 
Detect the deed, by slow neglect concealed. 

(Ed. Died Laius in the palace, or the field, 
Or by assassins in a foreign land ? 

Cr. To seek a distant oracle, 'tis said, 
He left the home to which he ne'er returned. 

(Ed. Did then no herald, no attendant view 
His fall, of whom we may demand the truth ? 

Cr. All died, save one, who fled in wild dismay, 
And of the scene he witnessed could recount 
One circumstance alone. 

(Ed. Repeat that one. 
If the first light of hope be well improved, 
A full disclosure may requite our toil. 

Cr. He said that ruffians met the King, who fell 
Oppressed by numbers, not by single hand. 

(Ed. How could a robber, if unbribed by traitors 
Within the city, dare this desperate deed ? 

Cr. Such was suspicion's comment ; but there rose 
No bold avenger, 'mid our ills, to Laius ! 



CEDIPUS TYRANNTJS. 21 

(Ed. But, when your monarch was thus basely 
slain, 
What cause withheld you from a strict inquiry? 

Cr. The Sphynx, propounding charms in mystic 
verse, 
Turned all our thoughts from dubious ills away 
To instant evils. 

(Ed. From their very source 
Soon will I drag to light these deeds of darkness : 
Such inquisition for a murdered King 
Is worthy both of Phcebus and of you ; 
I too, confederate in this righteous cause, 
Will vindicate at once the state and heaven. 
Swayed by no distant interests, do I rise 
To crush this foul pollution,— 'tis my cause; 
Who shed the blood of Laius would embrue, 
With equal daring, his bold hand in mine; 
Your King avenging, thus I guard myself. 
But from your seats, my children, rise with speed ; 
Bear hence your suppliant boughs. And let a herald 
Convoke the Theban people to our presence ; 
Nought will I leave untraced ; — Phcebus my guide, 
To gladness will we soar, or sink to ruin. 

Pr. Arise, my sons ; the end for which we came 
Is now accomplished, for the King hath said it. 



22 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

And may the God, who sent this dark response, 
Shine forth our saviour, and this plague arrest. 

[Exit CEdipus, 8$c. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Sweet-breathing voice of Jove, what fateful word 
Bring'stthou to Thebes from Delphi's golden shrine? 
Troubled in soul, I quake with awe divine ! 

O Paean, Power of healing, most adored 
In Delos' hallowed isle, thou wak'st my fear ! 
What dread decree, remote or near, 
Shall thy prophetic voice proclaim ? 
Say, child of golden Hope, imperishable Fame ! 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Daughter of Jove, immortal Pallas ! hear 
The suppliant vows that first to thee are paid ; 
Thy sister Dian next, earth-ruling maid, 

Who 'mid the forum her proud throne doth rear ; 
And the far-darting Phoebus ! Mighty Three ! 
Appear — avert our misery ! 
If from our Thebes her former woe 
Your guardian-care dispelled, O come to aid us now ! 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 23 

STROPHE II. 

Alas ! unnumbered ills we bear ; 

Dismay and anguish reign 
Through all our state ; and wisdom's care 
Strives, 'mid dejection and despair, 

To bring relief in vain. 
Nor ripen now the fruits of earth, 
Nor mothers, in th'untimely birth, 

The struggling throes sustain. 
Swift as the wild bird's rapid flight, 
Or flames that flash through circling night, 
Unnumbered spectres sink, a joyless train, 
To the dark shores of Pluto's dreary reign. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Thus doth th' unpeopled city sigh, 

Wide o'er whose pavements spread 
The lifeless heaps unheeded lie, 
Ungraced with pious obsequy, 

Or tear in pity shed. 
Matrons and wives, a mournful band, 
Suppliant around the altars stand ; 

With groans of piercing dread, 
Their votive strains to Heaven ascend, 
And sighs with louder pseans blend. 



24 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Bright daughter of the Mightiest ! fair-eyed Maid ? 
Rise in thy might, and send thy people aid ! 

STROPHE III. 

This ruthless power, who, raging round, 

Clad in no panoply of war, 9 
Inflicts a deeper, deadlier wound — 

O drive him from our land afar 
In backward flight, or where the wave 
Hides Amphitrite's trackless cave; 
Or where the restless whirlwinds roar 
On Thracia's bleak and barbarous shore. 
If aught survives the baleful night 
'Tis blasted by the morning-light. 
Oh Thou, who roll'st red lightnings in thine ire, 
Smite with thy vengeful bolt the foe, Eternal Sire ! 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

And from thy bright and golden bow 
Speed the keen shafts, Lyceean King ! 



9 A^ea rlv patefov, Martem ustivum, the same with 5 ntv^d- 
go; 0eof, above-mentioned. * Ayu'Kx.oc, kait'^m, not equipped in 
panoply; the ravages of pestilence being more desolating than 
the violence of war. 



CEDIPtJS TYRANNUS 25 

The shafts that ever strike the foe, 

These in thy people's succour wing ; 
Thou, Dian, lift thy beams of light 
On us, as on Lycaeum's height; 
Thee too, with golden mitre crowned, 
Whose name exalts thy Thebes renowned ; 
Thee, Bacchus, flushed with wine's deep hue, 
Whose path th'infuriate Nymphs pursue ; 
On thee I call ; be thy red torches driven 
To crush this fatalPest,thisPower abhorred in heaven. 

Re-enter (Edipus. 



(EDIPUS. CHORUS. 

(Ed. I hear thy prayers, nor are they breathed 
in vain — 
If thou wilt heed my counsels, and observe 
Whate'er the crisis claims, thou mayst achieve 
A remedy or respite from thy ills. 
I, as a stranger to the tale, will speak ; 
A stranger to the deed. I cannot hope 
To search it far with not a track to guide me ; 
Yet, last enrolled among the sons of Thebes, 
This is my charge to all her citizens : 



26 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Whoe'er is conscious of the murderous hand 

That shed the blood of Laius, I ordain 

He do forthwith reveal to me the whole : 

And lest, by fear withheld, he shrink to own 

His latent guilt, no heavier doom awaits him, 

Than to retire uninjured into exile ; 

Or if one know th' assassin, and he draw 

His breath from foreign soil, still let him speak, — 

With gifts and added thanks will we requite him. 

If yet ye all are silent, and there be 

One, for his own life or his friend's appalled, 

Who still shall slight our mandate, hear ye next 

The solemn edict we will then proclaim. 

This man, whoe'er he be, let none that owns 

Our sceptre and our sway presume to grant 

The shelter of a home ; let none accost him ; 

Let none associate with him in the vows 

And victims of the Gods, or sprinkle o'er him 

The lustral stream ; IO let all, from every roof, 



10 Xe'pjSs. This word does not, as Potter has translated 
it, imply the laver itself; but denotes, according to Athe- 
naeus, water in which was dipped a firebrand taken from the 
altar where the sacrifice had been offered ; sprinkling with 
this all who were present at the sacrifice, they performed the 
lustration. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 27 

Chase far the dire pollution, as the word 

Of Phoebus by his oracle enjoined. 

Thus will I be confederate with the God, 

And with the murdered monarch. On the wretch 

Who wrought this impious deed, or if alone, 

Or leagued with more, he shroud his head in darkness, 

I imprecate my curse ; may he consume 

His joyless years in misery and despair, 

Torn from the common blessings of mankind. 

Yea, on myself, 1 if, conscious of the deed, 

I grant the wretch asylum in my home, 

The same dread curse, in all its vengeance, fall ! 

Ye too I charge, our solemn word obey, 

Both for your King, the God, and this poor land, 

Now parched and withering in the wrath of Heaven. 

Nay, had the Gods their warning voice withheld, 

It ill became you unatoned to leave 

A crime like this,— a warrior, and a King, 

Cut off by traitorous guilt. 'Twas then your part 



Brunck proposes to read this passage, y&votro ^ a f i/hejSStpj, 
" I imprecate the same curse upon him, even if resident in 
my own family ; " but the common reading, Ipov %vvsi$6mo<;, 
which we have adopted in the text, seems preferable. 



28 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

To press a strict inquiry,* now 'tis mine. 

Mine is the realm which once his sceptre swayed : 

Mine is his nuptial couch, and mine his wife ; 

Mine too had been his children, but that Heaven 

Willed not to bless him with a prosperous seed ; 

And fate in ruin burst upon his head. — 

Therefore, in his behalf, as in a father's, 5 

Will I arise, and every path explore, 

To seize the dark assassin of the son 

Of Labdacus, the heir of Polydore, 

Cadmus, and old Agenor. And I pray, 



2 It has been objected by the severity of criticism, that so 
long a period could scarcely have elapsed since the death of 
Laius, without some inquiry into the circumstances which 
had occasioned it. We might reply, in defence of the poet, 
With whom could such an inquiry be expected to originate ? 
Jocasta, without any violation of probability, may be rather 
supposed anxious to suppress than to revive the memory of her 
former husband ; and if even CEdipus had been apprized of 
the circumstances, why should he feel so intense an interest 
in the fate of a stranger, as to institute an inquiry into a 
crime, which does not even appear to have been perpetrated 
within the jurisdiction of Thebes? 

3 We cannot but notice here the consummate address of 
the poet, in causing CEdipus to assume the character and re- 
lation which rightfully belong to him, but of which he is so 
fatally unconscious. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 29 

That Earth, though tilled in sorrow, may deny 
Her kindly fruits to all who slight our charge ; 
Their marriage-bed be childless ; may they sink 
In anguish keen as that we now deplore, 
Yea, meet a deadlier doom. To you, my friends, 
And all the Thebans who approve our will, 
May justice lend her aid, and the good Gods 
Accord their favouring presence. 

Ch. Mighty King! 
So will I speak, as in thy curse involved ; 
I slew him not, nor yet can I disclose 
The murderer. Phoebus, who this search ordained, 
Alone can guide it to unveil the guilty. 

(Ed. True are thy words ; but who can force the 
Gods 
To swerve from their high pleasure ? 

Ch. What my breast 
Inspires, would I a second time propose. 

(Ed. Though itbe thrice, forbear not thou to speak. 

Ch. The seer Tiresias, in prophetic skill, 
Is scarce, I know, by Phoebus self excelled ; 
Ask thou of him, O King, he will resolve thee. 

(Ed. Nor on this hope have I been slow to act. 
Counselled by Creon, twice have we required 
His presence, and much marvel why he comes not. 



30 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Ch. Vague and most dubious are the ancient 
rumours. 

(Ed. What are they? I would weigh e'en rumour 
well. 

Ch. Tis said some travellers slew him ! 

(Ed. This I heard ; 
But none can say who saw it. 

Ch. If he be 
Alive to fear, he will not calmly bear 
Thy stern and solemn curse. 

(Ed. Who trembled not 
To do such deed, will never quake at words. 

Ch. One now draws nigh, whose voice shall soon 
convict him. 
They lead the reverend prophet, in whose breast 
Alone of mortals shines inherent truth. 

Enter Tiresias. 



CEDIPUS, TIRESIAS, CHORUS. 

(Ed. Tiresias, whose expansive mind surveys 
All man can learn, or solemn silence seal, 
The signs of heaven, and secrets of the earth ; 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 31 

Though sight is quenched in darkness, well thou 

know'st 
The fatal plague that desolates our Thebes ; 
From which, O Prince, we hope to find in thee 
Our help and sole preserver. List, if yet 
Thou hast not heard his mandate, — the response 
Returned by Phcebus. Never shall this pest 
Cease its wide desolation, till we seize, 
And on th' assassins of the murdered King 
Avenge his fall by exile or by death. 
O then refuse not thou, if thou hast aught 
Of augury or divination sure, 
To save thyself, thy country, and thy King, 
And ward this foul pollution of the dead. 
We trust in thee. Of all our earthly toils 
The best and noblest is to aid mankind. 

Ti. 4 Ah ! woe is me ! (for wisdom is but woe, 
When to be wise avails not. This I knew, 
But ill remembered, or I ne'er had come. 



4 We have, in this scene, a fine and impressive comment 
on the evil consequences of prying into futurity. Tiresias 
would gladly exchange this baleful knowledge for the bliss of 
ignorance. 



32 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

(Ed. What may this mean ! and whence this 

strange dismay? 
Ti. Dismiss me to my home : this grace conferred, 
Thou wilt endure thy griefs, I mine, more lightly. 

(Ed. It were unjust, ungrateful to the state, 
Which hath sustained thee, to withhold thy counsel. 

Ti. Thy words are most untimely to thyself. 
Let me beware, lest I too swerve from caution. 

Ch. Oh, by the Gods, refuse not what thou canst. 
In one assenting prayer we all implore thee. 

Ti. For ye are all unwise. Be well assured, 
I will not speak, and publish thy despair. 

(Ed. Dost thou then know and wilt not speak 
the truth ? 
Wilt thou betray us, and subvert thy country ? 

Ti. I would not injure thee, nor wound myself. 
Why urge me thus ? Nought shalt thou hear from me. 
(Ed. Basest of villains ! for thou wouldst excite 
The insensate rock to wrath, wilt thou not speak? 
Still dost thou seem unpitying and unmoved ? 
Ti. Thou hast reproved my warmth, yet little 
know'st 
What dwells in thine own bosom, though on me 
Thou heap'st reproach. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 33 

(Ed. And who could calmly hear 
Such words, so shameful to thine injured country? 

Ti. Soon will these things appear, though I be 
silent. 

(Ed. Doth it not then behove thee to declare 
What soon shall come to light ? 

Ti. I'll speak no more. 
Indulge this lawless passion at thy will. 

(Ed. Nought will I now suppress, since anger 
prompts 
My unreserved speech. I do suspect thee 
Accomplice of the deed, save that thy hand 
Struck not the mortal blow ; had sight been thine, 
I then had charged thee as the only villain ! 

Ti. Ha! Is it thus? Nay, then, I tell thee, King! 
Adhere to thine own edict ; from this hour 
No more hold converse or with these or me. 
Thou art the sole polluter of our land. 

(Ed. Art thou so lost to shame, as to indulge 
A taunt like this. Think'st thou to 'scape unscathed? 

Ti. I have escaped : the might of truth is mine. 

(Ed. By whom informed? — not through thy pre- 
scient art. 

Ti. By thee ; thy will constrained me thus to speak, 
Though most reluctant. 

VOL. i. D 



34 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

(Ed. Wliat ? Repeat thy words, 
That I may learn more clearly. 

Ti. Knew'st thou not 
Before, or wouldst thou tempt me to speak on ? 

(Ed. I have not caught thy purport. Speak again. 

Ti. I say thou art the murderer whom thou seekest. 

(Ed. Thou shalt not vent that slander twice un- 
punished. 

Ti. Shall I proceed, and fire thy rage to frenzy? 

(Ed. Speak what thou wilt, it will be said in vain. 

Ti. Thou dost not know what guilty ties unite thee 
To those thou deem'st most dear ; thou dost not see 
The ills that close thee round. 

(Ed. And dost thou hope 
Again to triumph in thy vaunt unharmed ? 

Ti. If there be aught of potency in truth. 

(Ed. There is, but not for thee. Thou hast it not; 
Dark in thine eye, in heart and ear yet darker. 

Ti. Wretched art thou in thus upbraiding me, 
Whom all, ere long, shall urge with like reproach. 

(Ed. Nurtured in night alone, thou canst not harm 
The man who views the living light of heaven. 

Ti. 'Tis not thy doom to fall by me ; for this 
Phcebus is mighty, who will work the whole. 



(EDIPUS TYUANNUS. 35 

(Ed. Didst thou, or Creon, frame these sage in- 
ventions ? 

Ti. Not Creon wrongs thee, thou dost wrong 
thyself. 

(Ed. O wealth, O empire, and thou nobler art, s 
Potent o'er all to brighten life with joy, 
^yWhat baleful envy on your splendour waits ! 
Since for these regal honours, which the state 
Confided to my hand, a boon unsought, 
Creon, my first and once most faithful friend, 
By traitorous cunning saps my rightful sway, 
And hath suborned this dark designing wizard, 
This scheming specious sorcerer, skilled alone 
To seek his profit, sightless in his art. 
When didst thou ever prove a faithful prophet ? 
Why, when the Monster 6 screamed her mystic charm, 

s Te^vvi reyjyn;. Literally, the art of arts, ars ceteris artibus 
prcBstans. What are we to understand by this ? The word 
is conjectured in this passage to denote generally wisdom, 
and, in particular, that wisdom, or subtlety, which OEdipus 
had evinced in resolving the enigma of the Sphynx. 

6 PAYftAOE KYON. The Greeks applied the term KYON to 
several of their mythological monsters, particularly the Furies, 
who are called by Orestes, in the Choephori of JEschylus, 
/KijTpos eyxoroi xvve<; ; so our own Shakspeare, 

f< Cry havoc ! and let slip the dogs of war." 
D 2 



36 CEDIPUS TYRANNTTS. 

Didst thou not break it to redeem thy country ? 
To solve th' enigma was no chance emprize, 
Well might such task demand the prophet's aid ! 
Yet nought from divination couldst thou learn ; 
Nought did the Gods inform thee : then I came, 
This inexperienced (Edipus, and, led 
By reason, not by auguries, quelled the foe; — 
"Whom now thou seek'st to banish, deeming thus 
To stand in state usurped near Creon's throne ; 
But thou, with him who shared thy base designs, 
Shalt feel our righteous vengeance. Save that age 
Some reverence claims, now would I teach thee 

wisdom. 
Ch. If we conjecture right, the prophet spake 
In vehement wrath; thus too, King, thou spakest. 
Such ill beseems our state : 'twere best to seek 
How we may trace the pleasure of the God. 

Ti. Though thou art monarch, yet with like 

reproach 
Thy slanders will I quit, for this I can ; 
To thee I am no vassal, but to Phoebus ; 
Nor will I look to Creon as my patron. 
Know, since my blindness wakes thy keen reproach, 
Clear-sighted as thou art, thou dost not see 
What ills enclose thee — where thou hast thy home — 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 37 

With whom that home is shared. Art thou apprized 
Who gave thee birth ? Thou art th' unconscious foe 
Of thine own race on earth, and in the tomb. 
Soon shall thy father's, soon thy mother's curse, 
With fearful stride expel thee from the land ; 
Now blest with sight, — then, plunged in endless 

gloom. 
Ere long what shore shall not attest thy cries ? 
How will they echo from Cithaeron's 7 brow, 
When thou shalt learn that marriage, where impelled, 
As with propitious gales, in evil port 
Thy heedless bark hath anchored. Seest thou not 
A gathering storm of miseries, doomed ere long 
To burst alike on thee and on thy children ? 
Vent now on Creon and my prescient word 
Thy keen upbraidings. None of mortal race 



7 This, observes Brumoy, is an allusion to the past, which 
could not be preserved in the translation. Why not ? The 
ignorance of CEdipus does not affect the validity of the pro- 
phet's denunciation. The obscurity of Tiresias has been 
objected to; but obscurity is the necessary and appropriate 
language of prophecy ; its clearest and most satisfactory ex- 
planation is the event. 

Ai^yiv, properly, portus, a haven, a strand, should here be 
used in the sense of ayop«, as Mount Cithaeron was situated 
inland, between Phocis and Bceotia. 



38 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Hath ever fallen so low as thou shalt fall. 

(Ed. Must I then brook such shameless taunts 
from thee ? 
A curse light on thee, babbler ! to thy home 
Away, and rid us of thy hateful presence. 

Ti. But for thy summons, I had never come. 

(Ed. I little deemed that thou wouldst prate so 
weakly, 
Or never had I sought thy presence here. 

Ti. Though to thy better wisdom void of sense 
We seem, thy parents once esteemed us wise. 

(Ed. Who are they ? Stop, and tell who gave 
me birth. 

Ti. This day will show thy birth, and seal thy ruin. 

(Ed. How wild, and how mysterious are thy words ! 

Ti. Art thou not skilled f unriddle this enigma ? 

(Ed. Reproach the path that led me up to greatness. 

Ti. That very path hath led thee to perdition. 

(Ed. I reck not that, so I preserved the state. 

Ti. Then I depart. Thou, boy, conduct me hence. 

(Ed. Aye, let him lead thee. Thou dost mar 
our counsels ; 
When absent, thou wilt trouble us no more. 

Ti. I go ; but first will do mine errand here, 
By thy stem looks unawed. Thou canst not harm me. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 39 

I tell thee, King, the man whom thou hast sought 

With fearful menaces, denouncing death 

On Laius' murderer, that man is here. 

In word he seems an alien, yet shall prove 

By birth a Theban, nor in this disclosure 

Shall long exult. From sight reduced to blindness, 

To penury from wealth, he shall go forth 

To foreign climes by a frail staff directed 

Then to his children shall be proved at once 

A brother and a father ; and to her 

Who gave him birth a husband and a son, 

Corrival 8 of the father whom he slew. 

Seek now thy palace, and reflect on this ; 

And, if thou find my bodings unfulfilled, 

Deem me untutored in prophetic lore. 

[Exeunt Tiresias and (Edipus. 



O/Aoo-TTopo?, if taken in a passive sense, signifies " bora of 
the same mother," and is synonymous with o/*«»/*os ; if used 
actively, it denotes a man who has children by the same 
woman who had children by another person referred to. The 
present translator, in common with his predecessors, feels 
and acknowledges his inability to convey the idea adequately 
in English. The word corrival, used by Shakspeare, can 
hardly be said to afford even a distant resemblance to the 
original. 



40 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Whom did the fate-unfolding word 

From Delphi's rock-hewn shrine proclaim, 

The wretch who wrought with ruthless sword 

The deed we dare not name ? 

Now let him seek, in frantic speed, 

To emulate the foaming steed ; 

The Son of Jove, arrayed in arms of light, 

With vengeful flames is gaining on his flight, 

And still the Fates, resistless in their wrath, 

Track the base murderer's path. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Bright the prophetic word hath shone 

From hoar Parnassus' snow-crowned brow, 

To trace the guilty wretch, unknown, 

And hid in darkness now. 

Aye, let him range the lonely wood, 

Lurk, like the bull, in cavern rude, 

Or with tired steps a weary wanderer roam — 

Ne'er can he shun the presage of his doom 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 41 

From Delphi's shrine 9 denounced, — where'er he fly, 
The Living Curse is nigh. 

STROPHE II. 

Dire were the bodings of the seer ; 

And doubt and dread distract my breast, 

Nor all he told, nor all suppressed. 

I yield in turn to hope and fear, 

And trace the present and the past 5 

Each with impervious gloom o'ercast 

No mortal feud arose 

Between our monarch and the royal line 

Of Thebes ■ nor now, nor then can I divine 

The Kings were ever foes. 

10 How should I then adopt the Seer's decree 



9 Delphi's shrine. In the original t« ptaopQa.'Ka, y»%, lite- 
rally, umbilicum terrae, the centre of the earth, in which the 
ancients supposed Delphi to be situated ; so line 889, ya.% 
iir opQxXov, " the central shrine." 

10 Musgrave proposes to read in this passage Iwixxpov for 
tTTtxsgo?, thereby referring the word to CEdipus. But there 
does not appear any ground for rejecting the version of 
JBrunck, who has, " unde conjecturam faciens explorem, an 
propter vatis evulgatum responsum, contra (Edipodem Lab- 
dacidis auxilium laturus sim, ultionemque caedis obscurje 
suscepturus." 



42 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

To aid the house of Laius, and on thee, 

(Edipus, avenge this deed of mystery? 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Though Jove and Phoebus still are wise, 
And still to them mankind are known, 
Yet that the prophet views alone 
Things unrevealed to mortal eyes — 

1 cannot judge : in wisdom's lore 
Beyond his fellow man may soar ; 
But ne'er, till in my sight 

His truth be proved, on those who slight his word 
By me can censure or reproach be poured. 
When, with destroying flight, 
To (Edipus the fell Enchantress came, 
His sage response redeemed my country's shame, 
Then let my grateful heart such hideous charge 
disclaim. 

Enter Creon. 



CREON. CHORUS. 



Cr. O citizens, of that atrocious crime 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 43 

With which the King doth charge me, late apprized, 

Such charge I cannot brook. If, in the hour 

Of general suffering, he suspect that I 

Have sought to wrong him, or in word or act, 

E'en life itself were valueless to me, 

Thus coupled with dishonour ; for this charge 

Involves no trivial detriment, but seems 

Of gravest import, were I deemed by thee 

And by my friends a traitor to my country. 

Ch. Nay, but from vehemence of wrath this charge 
Burst rashly forth, not cool deliberate thought. 

Cr. Whence could it seem, that, by our wiles 
suborned, 
The prophet framed these falsehoods? 

Ch. So, indeed, 
The King affirmed ; but on what grounds, I know not. 

Cr. With mind unwarped, and unperverted eye, 
Did he thus charge me ? 

Ch. Sooth I cannot tell; 
I do not scrutinize the acts of princes. 
But lo ! himself approaches from the palace. 

Enter (Edipus. 



44 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 



CEDIPUS. CREON. CHORUS. 

(Ed. Ha ! wherefore cam'st thou hither ? Is thy 
brow 
So armed with bold presumption, that thou dar'st 
Still tread our courts, a false convicted traitor, 
Convicted in thy scheme to shed our blood, 
And steal into a throne ? Say, by the Gods, 
What folly, what supineness, hast thou marked 
In me, to form an enterprise like this ? 
Or didst thou think I had no eye to trace 
Thy wiles — when traced, no firmness to revenge 

them? 
Doth not thy rash attempt proclaim thee senseless, 
Without or friends or forces, to affect 
The throne, by armies and by wealth attained 1 

Cr. Know'st thou what thou wouldst do ? To 
our reply 
Grant first impartial audience ; learn, then judge. 

(Ed. Aye, thou art mighty in the strife of words ; 
But I am slow to learn of one like thee, 
Whom I have proved rebellious and perverse. 

Cr. First do thou hear what I would fain reply. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 45 

(Ed. So thou reply not thus, " I am no villain." 

Cr. If thou dost deem this self-willed senseless 
pride 
Will aught avail thee, thou art most unwise. 

(Ed. And if thou deem'st to work thy kinsman 
wrong, 
And 'scape unpunished, thou art most unwise. 

Cr. Thy words have show of justice; but explain 
Wherein I thus have wronged thee. 

(Ed. Didst thou then, 
Or didst thou not, persuade me here to summon 
This holy and most venerable prophet ? 

Cr. I did, and still my counsel is the same. 

(Ed. How long a space hath now elapsed since 
Laius — 

Cr. What act performed ? I cannot see thy drift. 

(Ed. Fell thus obscurely by a ruffian hand ? 

Cr. We must retrace a length of years obscure. 

(Ed. Did this sage prophet then profess his art ? 

Cr. Unmatched, as now, in wisdom, and esteemed 
With equal reverence. 

(Ed. Did he, at that time, 
Make mention of my name? 

Cr. Never; at least, 
Not in my presence. 



46 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

(Ed. x Did ye not enforce 
Strict inquisition for your murdered Lord ? 

Cr. How could we pass it by ? Our search was 
vain. 

(Ed. Why spake not then this sage diviner thus ? 

Cr. I know not, and strict silence would preserve 
On points unknown. 

(Ed. One point, at least, thou know'st ; 
And, if true wisdom guide thee, wilt disclose it. 

Cr. Name it ! I will not aught I know deny. 

(Ed. Were not the prophet basely leagued with 
thee, 
He had not charged me with the death of Laius. 

Cr. If thus he speaks, thou know'st. I claim in 
turn 
To ask of thee as thou hast asked of me. 

(Ed. Ask what thou wilt, I never shall be proved 
A base assassin. 

Cr. Is my sister thine, 
Thine by the nuptial tie ? 



1 This passage furnishes another refutation of the objec- 
tion noticed above. It had never even entered into the mind 
of (Edipus, that the inquiry into the death of Laius could 
possibly be neglected ; hence his ardour in the investigation, 
otherwise inexplicable, is satisfactorily accounted for. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 47 

(Ed. To such a question 
I cannot give denial. 

Cr. Dost thou not 
Divide with her the empire of the land ? 

(Ed. Tis my chief pride to grant her every wish. 

Cr. Do not I hold an equal rank with both 1 

(Ed. Thence dost thou seem indeed a faithless 
friend. 

Cr. Not if thou weigh my words, as I weighed 
thine, 
With cool and temperate judgment. First reflect, 
Who would prefer the terrors of a throne 
./To fearless sleep, with equal power combined ? 
Nor I, nor any whom true wisdom guides, 
Would seek the empty pageant of a crown, 
Before the real potency of Kings. 
Now, void of fears, I gain my wish from thee ; 
Were I a King, full oft must I renounce it. 
How, then, could empire be to me more dear 
Than this serene, yet not less potent sway ? 
I am not thus by flattering hope beguiled, 
-To quit substantial good for empty honour. 
All now is pleasure ; all men court me now ; 
They who desire thy favour seek my aid 
To advocate their cause ; through me they gain 



48 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

The boon solicited. And should I then 
Renounce such pleasures for the pomp of empire ? 
So wild a scheme the prudent soul discards. 
Such plots I never loved, and would disdain 
To mingle with the guilty band who frame them. 
If thou dost seek a proof, to Delphi send, 
Ask if aright the oracle I brought thee. 
Shouldst thou detect me leaguing with the Seer 
To work thee wrong, be instant death my meed, 
Twice doomed, — by thy decree, and by mine own ; 
But tax me not with guilt on vague suspicion. 
To deem the good unworthy, or account 
Alike the base and noble, is unjust. 
The man who drives an upright friend to exile, 
Doth wound himself no less, than if he struck 
At his own valued life. Of this, in time, 
Shalt thou be well convinced ; \long space it asks 
To prove the stainless honour of the just, 
One day suffices to detect a traitor. 

Ch. Well hath he said, King, to one forewarned 
Of falling ; quick resolves are rarely safe. 

(Ed. When one is quick to frame insidious plots, 
I too have need of quickness to repel him. 
If I remain inactive, he will gain 
His traitorous end, while my slow cares avail not. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 49 

Cr. What is thy will ?— To force me into exile ? 

(Ed. Nay, exile shall not be thy doom, but death. 

Cr. When thou hast proved what merits such a 
sentence. 

(Ed. Speak'st thou as one who meditates resistance ? 

Cr. I see thee swerve from wisdom, 

(Ed. Not unwise 
In mine own cause. 

Cr. Nor shouldst thou be in mine. 

(Ed. Thou art a villain. 

Cr. If thou know'st no crime ? — 

<Ed. Yet will I rule. 

Cr. Thou shalt not tyrannize. 

(Ed. Thebes ! Thebes ! 

Cr. *And I, too, have a part in Thebes ; 
It is not thine alone. 

Ch. Princes, forbear ! 
In happy moment, lo ! from out the palace 



* The validity of Creon's defence will be more duly appre- 
ciated, if we reflect that he had actually been raised to the 
throne upon the death of Laius, though he afterwards vo- 
luntarily resigned the. crown in favour of the destroyer of the 
Sphynx, and deliverer of his country. 

VOL. I. E 



50 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Jocasta comes ; her presence may appease 
The growing rancour of this desperate strife. 

Enter Jocasta. 



JOCASTA, OEDIPUS, CREON, CHORUS. 

Jo. Why, O unhappy princes ! have ye raised 
This unadvised strife, nor blush to wake 
Your private feuds when public woes distract us 1 
Wilt thou not home, my lord, and thou, too, Creon, 
Nor from slight cause excite severer ills ? 

Cr. My sister; (Edipus, thy husband, wills me 
A dreadful doom. 3 Two ills await, my choice ; 
Or death, or exile from my native land. 

(Ed. I own it, Lady, since with basest arts 
Have I exposed him plotting for my life. 

3 Two ills await my choice. Yet CEdipus had refused the 
election, and peremptorily denounced the severer penalty; 

Exile shall not be thy doom, but death. 

We must suppose that the fiery arrogance of CEdipus is more 
strikingly displayed by its contrast to the mildness and for- 
bearance of Creon. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 51 

Or. If I have done it, if the charge be true, 
May Heaven's dread curse descend at once to blastme. 

Jo. Oh, by the Gods, my QEdipus, believe him ; 
Revere the solemn test that seals his truth ; 
Regard me, too, and these thy faithful friends. 

STROPHE I. 

Ch. 4 By prompt reflection swayed, 
O King ! I pray thee, yield. 

(Ed. Wherein shall I accord thy prayer? 

Ch. Revere the prince, before 
Not senseless proved, now bound by solemn oath. 

(Ed. Know'st thou what thou wouldst ask ? 

Ch. I know. 

(Ed. Then speak. 

Ch. Forbear to charge a friend with crimes un- 
proved, 
5 Who calls the Gods to witness for his truth. 



4 This is the first variation of metre in the original. What 
difference was hereby occasioned in the recitation, it is per- 
haps vain to inquire. The probability appears, that the dia- 
logue was accompanied with music, somewhat analogous to 
our own serious opera. 

5 Evuyy : some read uvecyy, purum, labis expertem. The 
word itself signifies " qui jurejurando se obstrinxit." 

E 2 



52 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

(Ed. In such request, know well, thou dost but 
seek 
Thy monarch's death, or exile from the land. 

STROPHE II. 

Ch. No ! by yon radiant Sun, 
6 Prince of the Powers above, 
Low may I fall, a godless, friendless wretch, 
If e'er my bosom harboured thought like this. 
Tis my poor country's woe 
That rankles in my breast, 
And now must strike a deeper blow, 
If to our common ills be added yours. 

(Ed. Then let him hence, though certain death 
ensue, 
Or I be thrust with infamy to exile. 
Thy plea awakes my sympathy, not his ; 
Go where he will, my quenchless hate attend him. 

Cr. Even in relenting art thou stern ; thy wrath 
Too far indulged, most fearful. Souls like thine 
Are the just authors of their own remorse. 

(Ed. Wilt thou not leave me, and depart ? 



6 ripo/Ao?, dux, antesignanus. 



OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 53 

Cr. I go, 
Unknown by thee,but still by these deemed righteous. 

[Exit Creon. 



CEDIPUS, JOCASTA, CHORUS. 
ANTISTROPHE I. 

Ch. Why, Lady, dost thou pause 
To lead thy lord away ? 

Jo. First tell me what inflamed their wrath t 

Ch. Suspicion from dark words 
Arose, and e'en a groundless charge offends. 

Jo. By both preferred ? 

Ch. Even so. 

Jo. And what the cause ? 

Ch. Enough, enough I deem it, when the state 
Is plunged in grief, to cease where they too ceased. 

(Ed. Mark how thy speech, although I know 
thee worthy, 
Tends but to trouble and depress my heart ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Ch. My Lord, I spake not once 
Unmeaning words alone, 
But deem me void of wisdom, and bereft 



54 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Of sage reflection, if I fall from thee, 

Who, when in adverse storms 

My much-loved country strove, 

Didst steer her to a prosperous port. 

O, if thou canst, be thus our pilot now ! 

Jo. Nay, by the Gods, inform me too, King ! 
What to such rancour first inflamed thy wrath ? 

(Ed. I will, for I revere thee more than these ; 
'Twas Creon, who hath framed a treacherous wile. 

Jo. Say, if thou canst convict him of the crime. 

(Ed. He dares to tax me with the death of Laius. 

Jo. Himself th' accuser, or apprized by others ? 

(Ed. He hath suborned that false malignant seer, 
Who claims free license for his slanderous tongue. 

Jo. Dispel the thoughts that agitate thy breast. 
Hear me, and learn, that none of mortal birth 
Can trace the future by prophetic skill. 
The proof of this concisely will I show. 
An oracle to Laius once came forth, 
(I will not say by Phcebus self denounced, 
But by his ministers,) that fate ordained him 
To perish by a son whom I should bear ; — 
And yet, as rumour tells, where three ways meet, 
By foreign ruffians was the monarch slain. 
Our child was born, but ere three days had past, 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 55 

Piercing the joints, lie bound the infant's feet, 

And cast him forth by menial hands to die 

On an untrodden rock. In nought the word 

Of Phoebus was fulfilled ; — nor was the child 

His father's murderer, nor did Laius meet 

The doom he dreaded from a filial hand ; 

Yet thus the doughty oracles declared. 

Then heed them not. If Phoebus wills the search, 

He will himself the latent truth disclose. 

(Ed. O Lady, as I listen, how my thoughts 
Distempered wander, and my soul is torn! 

Jo. What strange solicitude prompts words like 
these ? 

(Ed. I heard, or seemed to hear, that Laius fell 
Beneath the ruffian-band, where three ways meet. 

Jo. So rumour whispered then, and still pro- 
claims. 

(Ed. What region was the scene of this dark 
deed? 

Jo. 7 Phocis the realm is called, the parted road 
From Delphi and from Daulia blends in one. 

(Ed. What time hath now elapsed since this befel ? 



7 Delphi and Daulia are separated by Mount Parnassus in 
Phocis, between the Gulf of Crissa and the Gulf of Opus. 



56 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Jo. 'Twas through the state divulged, short time 
ere thou 
Didst rise in glory to the throne of Thebes. 

(Ed. Almighty Jove ! to what hast thou reserved 
me ? 

Jo. My (Edipus, what means this wild dismay? 

(Ed. Oh, ask not, ask not, tell me of this Laius. 
What was his aspect, what his age, O speak ! 

Jo. His port was lofty, the first snows of age j( 
Had tinged his locks, his form resembled thine. 

(Ed. Wretch that I am, on mine own head, it 
seems, 
Have I called down this dread destroying curse. 

Jo. How say'st thou, King ! I tremble to behold 
thee. 

(Ed. I fear the prophet saw, alas ! too clearly. 
One question more, and all will be disclosed. 

Jo. I tremble — but will truly tell thee all. 

(Ed. Went the King private, or with many guards 
Encompassed, as became his regal sway ? 

Jo. His followers were but five — a herald one ; 
Sole rode the monarch in a single car. 



This passage confirms our conjecture, page 28, that the 
crime was not committed within the territories of Thebes. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 57 

(Ed. Alas ! alas ! 'tis all too evident ; 
But, Lady, who this sad narration brought? 

Jo. A slave, the sole survivor of the train. 

(Ed. Is he now present in the palace ? 

Jo. No. 
Returning thence, when he beheld thee crowned 
Monarch in Thebes, and Laius now no more, 
Clasping my hand, with suppliant prayers, he craved 
Some rural charge to tend our herds afar, 
Where never more might he behold the city. 
Such charge I gave assenting ; though a slave, 
He well deserved a richer recompense. 

(Ed. How can we bid his instant presence hither? 

Jo. Soon shall he come. Yet wherefore seek'st 
thou this ? 

(Ed. I tremble, Lady, for myself, and much 
Hath now been said to wake my wish to see him. 

Jo. He will arrive ere long. Meanwhile, O 
King, 
I, too, am worthy to partake thy cares. 

(Ed. I will not this deny thee, to such height 
Of expectation raised ; to whom more dear 
Could I confide my fortunes, than to thee ? 

My sire was Polybus, fair Corinth's Lord ? 
My mother Merope, of Doric race ; 



58 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

I, too, was counted noblest of the state, 

Till chanced a strange event that claimed my wonder, 

Though scarce deserving of the care it caused. 

One at a banquet in a drunken mood 

Reviled me, as not sprung from Polybus. 

Oppressed with weighty thoughts, throughout the 

day 
I scarce could curb my wrath, and on the next, 
From both my parents warmly asked the truth. 
They heard my tale, incensed with deepest rage 
Against th' inebriate babbler. Though with them 
I was delighted, yet th' opprobrious taunt 
Burnt in my breast, and rankled in my soul. 
Unknown to both I hastened to the shrine 
Of Delphi ; Phoebus, reckless of my prayer, 
Dismissed me thence dishonoured ; but denounced 
A long, long train of dark and fearful sorrows ; — 
That I, in wedlock to my mother bound, 
Should bring to light a race accursed of men, 
And in a father's blood my hands embrue. 
Hearing these bodings dire, I bade farewell 
To the loved realm of Corinth, by the stars 
My wandering course directing far away, 
That never, never might I see the shame 
Of those dread oracles fulfilled in me. 



(EDIPITS TYRANNUS. 59 

I passed those very regions in my course 
Where fell the murdered monarch. To thee, Lady, 
I will reveal the truth. As I pursued 
My onward journey, nigh the triple path, 
A herald there encountered me, with one 
Borne, as thou said'st, in single car sublime. 
The leader then, and that old chieftain too, 
With violent impulse thrust me from the path ; 
I struck the rude aggressor in mine anger, 
But the old man observing, when I passed 
Beside his chariot, with his double goad 
Smote on my brow. Unequal was the meed 
My hand returned. 8 1 raised my vengeful staff, 
And straight he rolled expiring from the car. 
I slew the whole. But if this stranger prove 
The murdered Laius, who of all mankind 
Exists more deeply wretched than myself, 
Oh ! who more hateful to th' avenging Gods ? 
Nor citizen nor stranger to my need 



s (Edipus though, as we observed, much more unfor- 
tunate than guilty, cannot be wholly vindicated. When he 
had been apprised that he was destined to be the murderer 
of his father, ought he, on so trivial a provocation, to 
have revenged the insult with death? The plea of self- 
defence may palliate, but cannot justify, the deed. 



60 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Henceforth may grant the refuge of a home ; 

None may accost, but all must spurn me from them ; 

And I, O how unconscious, on myself 

Invoked the withering curse. I, by whose hand 

His blood was shed, pollute his nuptial couch — 

Am I not all abandoned, all defiled ? 

If I must fly, and, flying, ne'er behold 

My best-loved friends, or tread my natal earth, 

Or else am doomed, in most unnatural ties, 

To wed my mother, and my father slay, 

Good Polybus, who gave me life and nurture, 

Would he not rightly judge who deemed these woes 

The work of some inexorable God ? 

Never, O never, ye most holy Powers, 

May I behold that day. Oh may I sink 

To death's more friendly darkness!; ere my life 

Be marked and sullied by a stain so fouL 

Ch. Thy words, O King ! are fearful ; yet retain 
Thy hope, till from this herdsman thou hast 
learned. 

(Ed. I but await his presence, for in him 
Concentres all the hope that now is left me. 

Jo. When he arrives, what is thy purpose next? 

(Ed. I will inform thee ; if his tale agree 
With thine in all things, I escape the crime. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 61 

Jo. What of such moment did my words imply ? 

(Ed. Thou saidst, the man ascribed the death 
of Laius 
To banded ruffians ; if he still adhere 
To this report, I am at once absolved ; — 
The deed of numbers is no deed of one : 
If he but name a single murderer, 
'Tis but too plain the deadly act was mine. 

Jo. But this, be well convinced, he then affirmed, 
Nor can he now retract his former tale — 
Not I alone, th' assembled state is witness. 
If aught he change the tenour of his words, 
Still, my good Lord, it cannot thence appear 
That Laius fell, as Phoebus' voice foretold, 
Slain by my son. Alas ! my hapless child 
Slew not, — but perished ere his father fell. 
9 So lightly do I hold each oracle, 
No longer would I waste a thought on either. 



9 It should here be remarked, that, to this period, nothing 
has occurred to criminate Jocasta. It was necessary, for the 
sake of reconciling the audience to her subsequent miseries 
and death, that she should not be altogether guiltless. With 
judgement not less discerning than the moral he inculcates is 
impressive, the poet has represented her indifferent to the 



62 CEDIPTJS TYRANNUS. 

(Ed. Nor can I blame thee, but with speed despatch 
A summons to this herdsman, — linger not. 

Jo. Straight will I send. But pass we now within. 
Nought of thy pleasure shall be left undone. 

[Exeunt Jocasta and (Edipus 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

O ! be the lot for ever mine 

Unsullied to maintain, 
In act and word, with awe divine, 

What potent laws ordain. 
Laws spring from purer realms above, 
Their father is th' Olympian Jove ; 
Nor is their heaven-born might controuled 
By aught of meaner mortal mould. 
Ne'er shall oblivion veil their front sublime ; 
Th' indwelling God is great, nor dreads the waste 
of time. 



Gods. Characters of unmixed good, as Shakspeare's Cor- 
delia, and even our author's Antigone, have been found too 
affecting for representation. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 63 



ANTISTROPHE I. 

(Pride forms the Tyrant. If elate 

With power increased in vain, 
On which no prosperous issues wait, — 

Pride leads him on to gain 
The steep ascent, — then from the brow, 
Hurls him to ruin's gulf below/ 
But ah ! if aught of counsel sage 
May yet my country's wound assuage, 
By the kind Gods be favouring issue given — 
I will not cease to ask the bounteous aid of 
Heaven. 

STROPHE II. 

But if a haughty wretch proceed 
To vaunting word or daring deed, 
Who nor avenging Justice fears, 
Nor the pure shrines of Heaven reveres, 

Destruction be his meed,) 
To guilt's ill-omened transports due ; — 
Unless in justice he pursue 
Just gains, from impious deeds refrain, — 
Nor madly grasp, with hand profane, 

When Heaven forbids the deed. 



64 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

10 Who yet will curb in due controul 
The wildest wishes of his soul, 
If glory crown the guilty head^ 
And why do I this hallowed chorus lead ? 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

And never to the central shrine 
Will I repair with rites divine, 
Nor bend at Abae's hallowed fane, 
Nor tread Olympia's courts again, 

Till this mysterious word 
To all its certain truth approve. — 
O Lord of Heaven, eternal Jove ! 
If by thy sceptre all are swayed, 
Let not Oblivion's trackless shade 

Conceal this crime abhorred, — 
They spurn the prescient word of Heaven, 
In years long past, to Laius given, 



10 Tk 'in ttot' ev to7<7<$ uvy% 
Qvpu fishy $s%eroa 
s ^vyoi.c l oc.iA.wetv ', 

Quisnam, si ita se res habet, cupiditatum tela ab animo 
arcere volet. — Erfurdt. 



(EDI PUS TYRANNUS. 65 

No reverence is to Phoebus paid, 
And the due honours of th' Immortals fade= 
Re-enter Jocasta. 



JOCASTA. CHORUS. 

Jo. Princes of Thebes, we deemed it meet to seek 
The temples of the Gods, and in our hands 
These votive wreaths, this odorous incense bear. 
The soul of (Edipus on a wild sea v 
Of anxious care is tossed;— nor, as becomes 
The prudent, weighs by former oracles 
This late response, but lends a willing ear 
To all who speak of terrors. Since my voice 
Avails no more, Lycsean King, to thee 
I fly, for thou art 1 nearest to our need, 
And come in prayer a suppliant to thy shrine, 



' Ayy.i<ro<; y&g h. Dr. Franckliti renders these words in a 
metaphorical sense, " Near to help the wretched." There 
is no occasion to depart from the literal sense. The 
temple of Phoebus was probably situated nearest to the 
palace. 

VOL. r. F 



66 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

That thou mayst grant us thine auspicious aid 
Since all now tremble, when we thus behold 
Our very Pilot shuddering- and appalled. 
Enter Corinthian. 



JOCASTA, CORINTHIAN, CHORUS. 

Co. Can ye inform me, strangers, where your 
King, 
Great (Edipus, his regal state maintains; 
Or, if ye know, where I may find the Monarch ? 

Ch. These are th' imperial halls — he is within, — 
This is his wife, the mother of his' children. 

Co. (Blest may she be, and ever with the blest 
Hold glad communion • to her royal lord 
* A most accomplished consort. 



z EEavTsXis TEHva, g%acra. Perfection in the marriage-state is 
when the nuptial bed is blessed with children. Hence the 
'A»^o? teXejs &J/x«, and the Zsu frixen of iEschylus. — Potter. 

This is the commencement of that wegiinviiot, so highly ex- 
tolled by the critics ; nothing can be more finely imagined, or 
more judiciously executed. 



(EDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 67 

Jo. Equal joy 
Attend thee, stranger, — thy kind greeting claims 
This due return of courtesy. But say, 
Whence cam'st thou to our Thebes, and what thy 
tidings? 

Co. Joy to thine house, O Lady ! and thy Lord. 

Jo. What joy? — and from what region art thou 
come ? 

Co. From Corinth. Atmy words thou wilt rejoice; 
Why should'st thou not — yet fond regrets will rise. 

Jo. What dost thou mean, and whence this two- 
fold influence? 

Co. The assembled states of Isthmus, rumour tells, 
Will choose thy Lord to mount the vacant throne. 

Jo. How vacant ? Reigns not Polybus in Corinth ? 

Co. No more, — his only kingdom is the tomb. 

Jo. Mean st thou, old man, that Polybus is dead ? 

Co. May I, too, perish if my words be false. 

Jo. Haste, haste, attendant, and convey with speed 
These tidings to your lord. Vain oracles ! 
Where are your bodings now? My (Edipus, 
Fearing to slay this man, forsook his country; 
Now Fate, and not his hand, hath laid him low. 
Enter (Edipus. 

f 2 



68 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

CEDIPUS, JOCASTA, CORINTHIAN, CHORUS. 

(Ed. Why, my beloved Jocasta, hast thou sent 
To bid my presence hither ? 

Jo. Hear this man — 
Attend his tidings, and observe the end 
Of these most true and reverend oracles. 

(Ed. Who is this stranger — with what message 

charged ? 
Jo. He is from Corinth, thence despatched to tell 
thee 
That Polybus, thy father, is no more. 

(Ed. What say st thou, stranger? Be thyself the 

speaker. 
Co. If in plain terms I first must tell thee, King, 
Know, he hath gone the pathway to the tombW 
(Ed. Died he by treason, or the chance of sickness ? 
Co. Slight ills dismiss the aged to their restr* 
(Ed. Then by disease, it seems, the monarch died. 
Co. And bowed beneath a withering weight of, 

years. 
(Ed. Ha! is it thus? Then, Lady, who would 
heed 
The Pythian shrine oracular, or birds 



tEDIPUS TYRANNLS. 69 

Clanging in air, by whose vain auspices 
I was fore-doomed the murderer of my father? 
In the still silence of the tomb he sleeps, 
While I am here — the fatal sword untouched — 
Unless he languished for his absent child, 
And I was thus the author of his doom. 
Now in the grave he lies, and with him rest 
Those vain predictions, worthy of our scorn. 

Jo. Did I not tell thee this before ? 

(Ed. Thou didst— 
But terror urged me onward. 

Jo. Banish now 
This vain solicitude. 

(Ed. Should I not fear 
The dark pollution of my mother's bed ? 

Jo. Oh why should mortals fear, when fortune's 
sway 
Rules all, and wariest foresight nought avails. 
Best to live on unheeding, as thou mayst. 
And dread not thou thy mother's lawless couch ; 
Oft is the soul dismayed by hideous dreams 
Of guilt like this, — but life's rough path is found 
Smoothest to him, who spurns these wild illusions. 

(Ed. I should admit the justice of thy plea, 



70 (EDIPUS TY'RANNUS. 

Save that my mother lives ; while she survive^ 
Though thou speak'st well, I cannot choose but fear. 

Jo. Proof strong and sure thy father's fate affords. 

(Ed. Strong, I confess ; — my fears are for the living. 

Co. And by what woman are these terrors roused ? 

(Ed. By Merope, the wife of Polybus. 

Co. And what, to her relating, thus alarms thee? 

(Ed. Stranger, a dark and hideous oracle. 

Co. May it be told ? — or shouldst thou not dis- 
close it 
To other ears ? 

(Ed. I may and will disclose it. 
Phoebus foretold that I should wed my mother, 
And shed with impious hand a father's blood. 
For this I fled my own Corinthian towers 
To seek a distant home — that home was blest; 
Though still I languished to embrace my parents. 

Co. This fear then urged thee to renounce thy 
country? 

(Ed. Old man, I would not be a father's mur- 
derer. 

Co. Then wherefore, since thy welfare I regard, 
Should I forbear to rid thee of this terror? 

(Ed. Do so, and rich shall be thy recompense. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 71 

Co. This hope impelled me here, that when our 
state 
Hails thee her monarch, I might win thy favour. 

(Ed. Ne'er will I seek the authors of my birth. 

Co. Tis plain, my son, thou know'st not what 
thou doest ! 

(Ed. How ! how ! old man, by Heaven ! unfold 
thy meaning. 

Co. If this preclude thee from returning home — 

(Ed. I fear lest Phcebus saw, alas ! too clearly ! 

Co. If thou dost dread pollution from thy parents— 

(Ed. That restless dread for ever haunts my soul. 

Co. Know, then, thy terrors all are causeless here. 

(Ed. How so? if of these parents I was born? 

Co. But Polybus is nought allied to thee. 

(Ed. How say'st thou? was not Polybus my father? 

Co. No more than I — our claims are equal here. 

(Ed. Had he who gave me life no nearer claim 
Than thou, a stranger? 

Co. Nor to him nor me 
Ow'st thou thy birth. 

(Ed. Then wherefore did he grant 
A son's beloved name ? 

Co. He from my hand 



72 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Received thee as a gift. 

(Ed. With such fond love 
How could he cherish thus an alien child? 

Co. His former childless state to this impelled him, 

(Ed. Gav'st thou a purchased slave, or thine own 
child ? 

Co. I found thee in Cithseron's shadowy glades. 

(Ed. Why didst thou traverse those remoter vales ? 

Co. It was my charge to tend the mountain herds. 

(Ed. Wert thou a herdsman, and engaged for hire ? 

Co. I was, my son, but thy preserver too. 

(Ed. From what afflictions didst thou then pre- 
serve me? 

Co. This let thy scarred and swollen feet attest. 

(Ed. Ah ! why dost thou revive a woe long passed ? 

Co. I loosed thy bound and perforated feet. 

(Ed. Such foul reproach mine infancy endured. 

Co. From this event arose the name thou bear'st, 

(Ed. Was it a father's or a mother's act? 
By the good Gods inform me ! 

Co. This I cannot — 
He may know more, perchance, who gave thee to me. 

(Ed. Thou didst receive me then from other 
hands, 



CED1PLS TVRANNUS. 73 

Nor find me as by chance? 

Co. No, to my hand 
Another herdsman gave thee. 

(Ed. Who was he ? 
Canst thou inform me this ? 

Co. He was believed 
A slave of Laius. 

(Ed. What ! of him who erst 
Ruled o'er this land ? 

Co. The same — this man to him 
Discharged a herdsman's office. 

(Ed. Lives he yet 
That I may see him ? 

Co. Ye — his countrymen — 
Are best prepared this question to resolve. 

(Ed. Is there of you who now attend our presence 
One who would know the herdsman he describes, 
Familiar erst or here, or in the field ? 
Speak — for the time demands a prompt disclosure. 

Ch. He is, I deem, no other than the man 
Whom thou before didst summon from the fields. 
This none can know more clearly than the Queen. 

(Ed. Think'st thou, O Queen, the man whose 
presence late 
We bade, is he of whom this stranger speaks? 



74 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Jo. Who — spake of whom? — Regard him not, nor 
dwell, 
With vain remembrance, on unmeaning words ! 

(Ed. Nay, Heaven forefend, when traces of my 
birth 
Are thus unfolding, I should cease to follow. 

Jo. Nay, by the Gods I charge thee ! search no more, 
If life be precious still. Be it enough 
That I am most afflicted. 

(Ed. Cheer thee, lady ! 
4 Though my descent were proved e'en trebly servile, 
No stain of infamy would light on thee. 

Jo. Ah yield, I do conjure thee — seek no more. 

(Ed. I will not yield, till all be clearly known. 

Jo. 'Tis for thy peace I warn thee — Yet be wise. 

(Ed. That very wisdom wounds my peace most 
deeply. 

Jo. Unhappy — never mayst thou know thy birth. 



* Though my descent were proved e'en trebly servile. In 
the original, sav i-pr^ \yu /*»jTgos Qeivu r^aXoq, not if I were 
thrice a slave from a third mother ; i. e. not if my mother, 
with her mother and grandmother, for three generations back, 
had been slaves. — Francklin. 



<EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 75 

(Ed. Will none conduct this shepherd to our 
presence ? 
Leave her to triumph in her lordly race. 

Jo. Woe, woe, unhappy ! henceforth by that name 
Alone can I address thee, and by that 
Alone for ever. 

[Exit Jocasta. 

Ch. Whither, my good Lord, 
Hath the Queen parted, urged by wild dismay ? 
I fear, I fear, lest this portentous silence 
Be bat the prelude to impending woe. 

(Ed. Let the storm burst, I reck not. I will on 
To trace my birth, though it be most obscure. 
Pride swells her thus, for in a woman's breast 
Pride reigns despotic, and she thinks foul scorn 
Of my ignoble birth. I deem myself 
The child of Fortune, in whose favouring smile 
I shall not be dishonoured. She alone 
Hath been my fostering parent; from low state 
My kindred months have raised me into greatness. 
Sprung from such lineage, none I heed beside, 
Nor blush reluctant to explore my birth. 

[Exit (Em pus. 



76 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

If prophetic skill be mine, 
If aright my soul divine, 
By Olympus' brow I swear, 
Thou, Cithaeron, shalt declare 
(Soon as mid to-morrow's sky 
Shines the rounded moon on high) 
The mystic word, and proudly own 
Great (Edipus thy fostered son ! 
Then would we in sportive measure 
Lead to thee the dance of pleasure, 
For thy bounties richly poured, 
On our country's honoured Lord. 
Phoebus, Healing Power, to thee 
Pleasing may my presage be ! 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Which of all th' immortal host, 
Can, my son, thy lineage boast ? 
Did some s Mountain-Dryad fair, 
Thee to Pan the wanderer bear. 



©fyaT>?'f Ao|i». ®vyu,~7if does not here denote filia, a 



CEDIPUS TYRAXXUS. 77 

Pan who roams the sylvan height ; — 

Or to Phcebus, Lord of Light, 

For the young God delighted roves 

O'er green hills crowned with shadowy groves. 

Did the King, Cyllene swaying, 

Did gay Bacchus ever straying 

Woods and lofty crags among, 

With the maids of sweetest song,-^ 

Greet thee, his illustrious son, 

From some fair nymph of Helicon ? 

Re-enter GSdipus, Corinthian. 



CEDIPUS, CORINTHIAN, CHORUS. 

(Ed. If aught I may conjecture, friends, of one 
With whom I ne'er held converse, I behold 
Th' expected herdsman : for his lengthened years 
Accord ; and those who lead him, I discern, 
For mine own menial train. But haply thou, 
To whom familiar erst his face hath been. 
Canst speak with more assurance. 



daughter, but simply a maiden — " puella." So khoyjH, simply 
mn Her es. 



78 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Ch. Yea, I know him — 
The herdsman he of Laius, in his charge 
Proved to his Lord most faithful. 

(Ed. First, I ask 
Of thee, Corinthian— is this man the same 
Whom thou didst now describe ? 

Co. This is the man. 

Enter Herdsman. 



(EDIPUS, CORINTHIAN, HERDSMAN, CHORUS. 

(Ed. Approach, old man ! look on me, and reply- 
To my demand. Wert thou the slave of Laius? 
Herd. I was his slave — bred in his house — not 

purchased. 
(Ed. What office didst thou hold ? what task dis- 
charge ? 
Herd. My better part of life was passed in 
tending 
The monarch's flocks. 

(Ed. What regions wert thou then 
Wont to frequent ? 

Herd. Cithaeron, and the meads 
Adjacent. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 79 

CEd. Dost thou e'er remember there 
To have beheld this man ? 

Herd. What task performing — 
Which man dost thou intend ? 

CEd. I mean this man 
Here present ; hadst thou converse with him there ? 

Herd. Not such, that I can instantly retrace it. 

Co. No marvel this, O King ! But I will soon 
Revive events forgotten, for I know 
He cannot but recal what time he fed 
Two flocks, I one, in green Cithseron's vales. 
6 Three months we thus consorted, from the Spring 
Till cold Arcturus brings the wintry blast. 
To mine own stalls I then drove back my herds, 
He to the stalls of Laius led his charge. 
Say, are my words unwarranted by fact ? 

Herd. Thy tale is true, though told of times long 



Co. Then answer. Dost thou recollect the babe 



6 Three months, &c. Yet from Spring to the rising of Arc- 
turus, which occurs, according to Pliny, eleven days before 
the autumnal equinox, there is an interval of six months. 
Can we reconcile this by supposing Iuja^vik; y$'ovx<; to mean 
seasons ? 



SO CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Thou gav'st me there, as mine own child to cherish ? 
Herd. What wouldst thou? Whither do thy 

questions tend ? 
Co. This is that child, my friend, who stands 

before thee. 
Herd. A curse light on thee ! wilt thou not be 

silent ? 
(Ed. Reprove him not, old man, for thine own 
words, 
Far more than his, demand a stern reprover. 

Herd. In what do I offend thee, my good Lord ? 
(Ed. In that thou speak'st not plainly of the child 
Of whom he asks thee. 

Herd. But he speaks in darkness, 
Mere empty babbling. 

(Ed. If thou wilt not answer 
To mild persuasion, force shall soon compel thee. 
Herd. Oh ! for the love of Heaven, respect mine 

age. 
(Ed. Will ye not seize and instant bind his hands ? 
Herd. Alas ! what is my crime ? what wouldst 

thou learn ? 
(Ed. Didst thou commit to him the child he 

spake of? 
Herd. I did : — O, had that moment been my last ! 



1EDIPUS TYRANNLS. 81 

(Ed. This shall be, if thou wilt not speak the truth. 

Herd. And if I speak it, I am trebly lost. 

(Ed. This man, it seems, still struggles to elude us. 

Herd. No, I confessed long since I gave the child. 

(Ed. And whence received ? thine own, or from 
another ? 

Herd. No, not mine own ; I from another's hand 
Bare him. 

(Ed. And from what Theban, from what roof? 

Herd. O, by the Gods ! my Lord, inquire no 
further. 

(Ed. If I repeat th' inquiry, thou art lost. 

Herd. The palace of King Laius gave him birth. 

(Ed. Sprung from a slave, or of the royal stock ? 

Herd. Ah ! how I shrink to breathe the fatal truth. 

(Ed. And I to hear it ; yet it must be heard. 

Herd. The child was called the son of Laius ; here 
Thy royal consort can inform thee better. 

(Ed. Didst thou from her receive him ? 

Herd. Yea, O King! 

(Ed. And for what purpose? 

Herd. That I might destroy him. 

(Ed. What — the unnatural mother ? 

Herd. She was awed 
By woe-denouncing oracles. 

VOL. I. g 



82 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

(Ed. What woe? 

Herd. That he should prove the murderer of his 
parents. 

(Ed, Why, then, to this old man thy charge 
consign ? 

Herd. From pity, O my Lord. I deemed that he 
To his own land would bear the child afar. 
He saved him to despair. If thou art he 
Of whom he spake, how dark a doom is thine ! 

(Ed. Woe ! woe ! 'tis all too fatally unveiled. 
Thou Light ! O may I now behold thy beams 
For the last time ! Unhallowed was my birth, 
In closest ties united, where such ties 
Were most unnatural; — with that blood denied, 
From whose pollution most the heart recoils. 

Exit (Ed i pus. 



L- 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Sad generations of mankind, 
How oft your fleeting date I deem 
Of vanity and woe combined ! 
For what is transport but a dream 



lEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 83 

That seems awhile to beam and bless, 
Then wanes away to wretchedness ? 
Thy fortunes, my unhappy lord, 
Thy woes the mournful proof afford ; 
And henceforth never shall my breast 
Deem mortal blest. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Raised by strong hand and daring aim, 
Sublime to glory's proudest height, 
Who erst — 'Eternal Jove!— o'ercame 
The harpy-taloned Maid of night 
Chaunting dark strains — and stood the tower 
Of Thebes in death's impending hour ; — 
For this, O King, thy wisdom's meed, 
My country's crown adorns thy head ; 
For this her stately towers obey 
Thy regal sway. 

STROPHE II. 

But now thy tale I hear, 

Ah ! who so deeply sunk as thou ? 

What horrors are thy portion now, 

What hopeless toil severe ? 

Alas for thee ! O King renowned ! 

& 2 



84 IEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

"To one dark couch the son and sire 

Alike the nuptial union bound ; — 

How could that couch, in silence so profound, 

Bear such pollution dire ? 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Time with all-searching eye 
Dragged thee reluctant into light, 
And doth on son and sire requite 
This foul unnatural tie. 

had it neer been mine to see 
The son of Laius ! — o'er thy doom 

1 pour the plaints of sympathy. 

By thee, O Prince ! I rose to life; — by thee 
Have closed mine eyes in gloom ! 

Enter Messenger. 

MESSENGER, CHORUS. 

Mess. O chiefs, most honoured of my native 
land, 



1 In the original, " Cui unus et idem suffecit portus, quo 
filius et pater et sponsus exciperentur." — Brunck. It is 
trusted, that the classical reader will excuse the absence of a 
literal translation in this passage, as he will readily appreciate 
the motives which occasioned its omission. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 85 

What horrors will ye hear, what woes behold, 

What pitying anguish suffer, if indeed 

Ye still revere the house of Labdacus. 

2 Did Phasis blend with Ister's mighty flood, 

Both could not wash the deadly taint away 

Of those dark deeds, which, latent in yon towers, 

Soon shall burst forth to day's abhorrent light, 

Spontaneous, unconstrained. Ills self-imposed 

With keener anguish wound the bleeding heart. 

Ch. There wanted nought to aggravate the woes 
We knew already. What remains to tell ? 

Mess. What may be quickly told, and learnt as 
soon. 
Hear, first, — the loved Jocasta is no more. 

Ch. Ill-fated Queen ! what, caused her hapless 
doom? 

Mess. She was herself the cause. Of these dark 
deeds 
The worst is latent, since no eye beheld 



Crimes were imagined by the ancients to be expiated by 
river or sea water. So JEneas, in Virgil : 

Me bello e tanto digressuoi et caede recenti 
Attrectare net'as, donee me flumine vivo 
Abluero. 



86 IEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Its horrors ; yet the tenour of her woes, 

As memory can retrace them, thou shalt hear. 

When, frantic with despair, she wildly rushed 
Within the portal, to the nuptial couch, 
Rending her hair with ruthless hands, she fled ; 
Then, entering, closely barred the doors within, 
And on the long-departed Laius calls, 
Making sad mention of that earlier son 
By whom her Lord should perish, leaving her 
To her own child to bear a lawless race ;— 
Then o'er that couch bewailed, where she brought 

forth 
A husband from a husband, sons from sons ; 
And then and there, I know not how, she perished. 
For with wild clamours (Edipus rushed in, 
Nor longer thought we of the hapless Queen ; 
For every eye on him was riveted. 
On, on he hurried, raving for a sword, 
Raving for her, his wife, — yet not his wife, 
The mother of his children, and himself. 
Infuriate thus, some demon urged him On, 
We, who were present, spake not. With deep groans 
Led by that viewless guide, he madly rushed 
Against the two-fold portals, and beat down 
The massive bolts, and burst into the chamber. 



CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 87 

Suspended there his wretched wife we saw, 
Wreathed in the twisted cord. Soon as he marked 
Th' appalling sight, with agonizing groans 
He loosed the strangling noose ; but when on earth 
Her breathless corpse was laid, — oh, then ensued 
A hideous scene of horror. From her robe 
Tearing the golden clasps that bound her zone, 
Deep in his eyes the piercing point he plunged, 
Exclaiming thus, — that never, nevermore, 
Her should they see, the sufferings he endured, 
Or the dire deeds he wrought,— that, henceforth 

quenched 
In outer darkness, ne'er should they behold 
Those whom to see beseemed him now no more ; — 
Nor know the forms he most desired to know. 
Thus, imprecating curses on his head, 
Again, again, and yet again, he struck, 
Raising his eye-lids, till the bleeding balls 
His cheek empurpled, nor in scanty flood 
Gushed the quick drops, but from his brow poured 

down 
A shower of tears and crimson gore combined. 
Such storms of fate have burst alike on both — 
The wife, the husband, in one ruin whelmed — 
Their former state, which heretofore we deemed, 



88 CEDI'PUS TYRANNUS. 

And justly too, most blessed ; — on this day 
Is changed to wailing, horror, death, and worse 
Than death, dishonour. Misery hath no name 
For aught that blends not in his cup of sorrow. 
Ch. Is there no pause of respite from his pangs ? 
Mess. He calls aloud, with clamours wild and 
shrill, 
T' unbar the portals, and to all the Thebans, 
Expose the guilty murderer of his father, 

His mother's Oh, I cannot, dare not breathe 

His heart-appalling words : he bids them drive him 
Far, far from Thebes, nor refuge still afford 
To him, th' accursed, by himself condemned. 
Yet ah, a guide and added strength he needs ; 
His agony is more than he can bear. 
Soon wilt thou see him. Lo ! the close-barred gates 
Are bursting now asunder. Thou wilt soon 
Behold a sight, that well might wake relenting 
E'en in the bosom of remorseless hate. 

Enter (Edipus. 



OZDIPUS, CHORUS. 



Ch. O sight of grief to human eye — 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 89 

The most appalling far of all 

On which I e"er have gazed. — Ill-fated King ! 

What frenzy seized thee — what indignant God 

Hath heaped this sad extremity of woe 

On thy devoted head ? — 

Alas, alas, unhappy ! But mine eye 

Recoils to meet thee, though of much I pant 

To ask, and much to hear and to behold, 

Such dread thy pangs inspire. — 

(Ed. Woe ! woe ! unutterable woe ! 
I am indeed most wretched. Where, oh where 
Is the lost wanderer borne, and whence that voice 
That breaks upon mine ear? — 
Where, Fortune, hast thou plunged me now? — 

Ch. In horrors, from which eye and ear recoil. 

STROPHE I. 

(Ed. O thou dense cloud 
Of black and baleful darkness, deepening round, 
Boundless, eternal, and by hope uncheered ! 
Oh wretch, wretch, wretch ! How piercing is the 

sting 
Of frenzy, and the memory of the past ! 

Ch. No marvel if, in agonies like thine, 
Redoubled ills inflict a double wound. 



90 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

(Ed. What ! thou, my friend, 
Thou only firm and faithful, who art still 
Regardful of the blind ? — O misery ! 
Though all is dark around me, still I hear, 
I know thy friendly accents through my darkness. 

Ch. G wildly-daring, how couldst thou endure 
To mangle thus thine eyes, — what God impelled 
thee? 

STROPHE II. 

(Ed. 'Twas Phoebus, Phcebus, O my friends, alone 
Who wrought my doom of woe, 
My hopeless agony ;— 

But this dark deed no hand, save mine, hath dared. 
1 Yet what were sight to me, 
For whom all Nature wears One hue of blackness? 

Ch. Alas ! I can but own thy Words most true. 

STROPHE III. 

(Ed. What now remains to court 



3 Shuddering I shrunk from Nature's face, 
Where every hue that charmed before, 
The blackness of my bosom wore. — Byron. 



(ED IPUS TYRANNUS. 91 

My gaze, or wake my love, 

Henceforth what voice shall gladden my dull ear 1 

Drive me to instant exile from your land, 

Drive me, friends ! this widely-blasting pest, 

This most accursed of men, 

And trebly hateful to the Powers above ! 

Ch. Wretched alike in soul as in thy doom! 
Would to the Gods that I had never known thee ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

(Ed. Perdition seize the wretch, in the wild wood, 
Who first my feet unbound, 
And from impending fate 
Released and rescued me, — unwelcome care ! 
O had I perished then, 
Nor brought this ruin on myself, — my kindred ! 

Ch. Fain must I breathe an echo to thy prayer. 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

(Ed. I had not then been doomed 
The murderer of my sire, 
Nor by mankind for lawless nuptials scorned — 
Now I am most defiled — the child of guilt — 
The sire of sons to her who calls we son. 
Whate er of heavier woe, 



92 1ED1PUS TFRANNUS. 

In woe exists, that (Edipus must bear. 

Ch. I know not how thy counsel to commend ; — 
Better to die at once than pine in darkness. 

(Ed. If void of wisdom I have done this deed, 
Spare now reproof and counsel ; both are vain. 
Descending to the dead, I know not how 
I could have borne to gaze upon my sire, 
Or my unhappy mother ; for to them 
Crimes dark as mine, not death can e'er atone. 
And could the sight of my fair budding offspring, 
Springing from whence they sprung, be sweet to me? 
Oh never with these eyes ! I could not gaze 
On this fair city, these imperial towers, 
Or e'en the hallowed temples of the Gods, 
Of which, though once the noblest in our Thebes, 
My own stern sentence hath for ever reft me ! 
Myself enjoining all to spurn afar 
The wretch, proclaimed accursed by the Gods, 
And sprung from Laius' stock. When I disclosed 
Mine own dishonour, could I still behold 
These with bold front and firm undrooping eye ? 
Oh never, never ! Could I e'en obstruct 
The avenues of sound, I would not cease 
To rend this wretched body, till with sight 
The power of hearing tied ; 'tis some relief 



tEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 93 

To lose the bitter sense of agony. 

Oh why, Cithseron, didst thou yield me refuge, 

Nor grant me swift destruction, that to men 

I ne'er had shown the secret of my birth ? 

Oh Polybus, oh Corinth, and the home 

Once fondly deemed my father's, what a form 

Of specious glory but of latent ills 

In me ye cherished, who am now revealed 

The guilty child of parents not less guilty ! 

Ye triple ways, thou lone secluded dell, 

Thou grove, and dark recess in that trine path, 

Which from my hand imbibed a father's blood, 

Ah do ye still remember the foul deeds 

I wrought in your deep shade ? then, here arriving, 

What added guilt incurred ? Thou fatal marriage, 

Alas, most fatal, whence I drew my birth, 

Whence sprung again a vile promiscuous brood, 

Exposed to light, of fathers, brothers, sons ; — 

Whence too of kindred blood came sisters, wives, 

And mothers — all that man accounts most guilty ! 

Yet, since to speak is evil, where to act 

Was most unseemly, hide me, by the Gods, 

Far from this land, or doom my instant death, 

Or cast me to the deep — I reck not where — 

So I may never blast your sight again. 



94 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Come, nor disdain to touch a hapless wretch ;— 
Comply, and fear not : these unequalled woes 
I, I alone, of all mankind, must bear. 

Ch. He comes, to whom thy prayers were best 
preferred, 
Creon— to counsel and to act are his, 
Who now is left sole monarch of the land. 

(Ed. Ah me ! and in what words shall I accost 
him ? 
How can he yield due credence to my prayer, 
Who hath himself already proved me worthless 1 

Enter Creon. 



CREON, GEDIPUS, CHORUS. 

Cr. I come not to insult thee, (Edipus, 
Or add recrimination to thy sorrows. 
But you, if nought of reverence ye retain 
For those of mortal birth, at least respect 
The all-sustaining flame of yon fair sun, 
Nor drag the dire pollution into light, 
Which nor the earth, nor heaven-descending rain, 
Nor day's broad light can evermore endure. 
Haste, and immure him instantly within, 



1EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 95 

For decency demands that kindred ears 
Alone should listen to a kinsman's woes. 

(Ed. Now by the Gods, since thou hast passed 
my hopes, 
And, best thyself of men, dost freely come 
To me the most abandoned, grant one boon — 
Not for myself, but thee, I ask. — 

C?\ What boon 
Would'st thou of me so fervently implore? 

(Ed. Drive me from Thebes afar, where never 
more 
May I e'er hold communion with mankind. 

Cr. This had I done, be well assured, but first 
'Tis meet to ask the pleasure of the God. 

(Ed. That pleasure hath already been declared ; 
He dooms the impious parricide to death. 

Or. Thus hath he willed; yet in so dark a crisis 
Tis better far again to ask his pleasure. 

(Ed. Wilt thou consult him for a wretch like me? 

Or. Thy fall hath taught us to revere his truth. 

(Ed. I charge and will adjure thee to entomb 
With decent rites the dead who lies within — 
Such office best beseems thy kindred blood. 
Nor longer let my native city deign 
To grant me refuge in her friendly walls ; 



96 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

But drive me hence, to dwell on that wild mount, 
My own Cithaeron called, which erst my parents, 
While yet I lived, designed my sepulchre ;— 
As they my death ordained, so let me die. 
Too well I know, nor blight of keen disease, 
Nor other ill could slay me. I was snatched 
From death, to dare this more than deadly deed. 
But as our fate began, so let us on. — 
As for my children — for my sons, O Creon, 
Take no solicitude — for they are men — 
Where'er they roam, they cannot feel the pangs 
Of piercing penury. — But, O ! my daughters ! — 
My much loved daughters ! — in the weak estate 
Of virgin helplessness — who never dwelt 
Apart from their loved father, and with whom 
I ever shared my pomp — my joy — my all, — 
Be these thy constant care, and grant me now 
To clasp them, and bewail our common woes. 
Assent, O King ! — 

generous Monarch, while my hand may touch them, 

1 seem to hold, as though I saw them still. 
What do I say ? — 

Ye Gods ! my much loved children do I hear, 
Wailing our woes? — hath pitying Creon sent 
The dearest pledges of my love to bless me? 



iEDlPUS TYRANNUS. 97 

Are my words true ? 

Or. They are. My care provided this delight, 
Assured of old what joy their presence gave thee. 

(Ed. be thou blest for this, and mayst thou find 
The God a better guard than I have found him. 
Where are ye, my sweet children? Come, O come, 
To mine embrace, as to a brother's hands, 
Which yet have quenched a father's eyes in darkness. 
Your father, my poor children, (though unseen, 
Unknown the deed,) by her who gave me life. 
O'er you I weep — though never more, alas ! 
Can I behold you, — yet I know too well 
That ye must linger on through life in sorrow, 
While bitterest anguish waits you with mankind. 
To what assembled crowds will ye resort, 
What festive scenes, from which with downcast looks 
Ye will not steal dejected to your home, 
Youselves more wept than that ideal woe? 
And when in Beauty's vernal pride ye bloom, 
Ah who, my daughters, who in nuptial tie 
Will lead you to his house, nor heed the stain 
Fixed on my wretched parents, and on yours ? 
What taint is wanting? First, your father slew 
His father; then, in guilty wedlock linked 
To his own mother, gave you birth, my children, 
vol. i, H 



98 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

From the same source whence his own life he drew. 
Thus will ye be reproached. Who then will wed 

you? 
None, none, my daughters — ye must pine, alas ! 
Deserted, and with nuptial rites unblessed. 
Son of Menoeceus, since thou now art left 
Sole parent to these orphans, (we, who once 
Bore that beloved name, in ruin whelmed,) 
Ah leave them not, for they are still thy kindred, 
To roam in friendless penury, unwedded ; — 
Let not their misery equal their lost father's. 
Ah pity them, so young, so innocent, 
By every friend deserted, save by thee. 
Assent, most noble Monarch, pledge thy hand. 
And ye, my children, were your age mature 
To heed instruction, much would I exhort you. — 
Now would I breathe alone this parting prayer, 
Where'er your destined home, may Heaven assign 
A happier lot than your most wretched father's. 

TROCHAICS. 

Cr. Hold, for where doth grief transport thee? 

to the palace now retreat. 
(Ed. I obey, though most reluctant. 
Cr. All is well in season meet. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 99 

(Ed. Knowst thou now my wish? 

Cr. Unfold it — I due audience will accord. 

(Ed. Drive me from this land to exile. 

Cr. To the God this prayer be poured. 

(Ed. To the Gods I am most hateful. 

Cr. Thence thy wish thou soon shalt gain. 

(Ed. Meanst thou thus? 

Cr. The word I mean not, but to speak 

I would disdain. 
(Ed. Lead me hence without delaying. 
Cr. Go — but leave thy children still. 

(Ed. Do not, do not tear them from me. 
Cr. Aim not to achieve thy will, 

What before thou didst accomplish, failed to bless 
thy waning day. 
Ch. Sons of Thebes, my native city, this great 
CEdipus survey, 
Who resolved the famed enigma, who for virtue far 

renowned, 
Nought of favour recked or fortune, with transcen- 

dant glory crowned. 
Mark him now, dismayed, degraded, tost on waves 

of wildest woes ; — 
Think on this, short-sighted mortal, and till life's 
deciding close, 

h 2 



100 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

Dare not to pronounce thy fellow truly happy, truly 

blest, 
Till the bounds of life passed over, yet unharmed, 

he sinks to rest. 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 



OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 



That sublime sentiment of Sophocles, respecting 
" Laws," which occurs in the preceding tragedy, 

Msya? ev TtsTon; 0eo?, a^e yygatrxei, 

" The Divinity is mighty within them, and waxes not old," 

may be applied, with the strictest propriety, to his 
own admirable genius, as displayed in the plan 
and execution of the drama now under considera- 
tion. The " CEdipus at Colonos" is indeed a 
phenomenon without rival or parallel in the records 
of literature. Though composed, if we admit the 
testimony of Cicero and Valerius Maximus, after 
the poet had completed his ninetieth year ; — at an 



104 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

age, when, in ordinary instances, as the corporeal 
powers of man become only " labour and sorrow,' r 
so his mental energies are merged in imbecility and 
forgetfulness ; this tragedy is inferior to none of 
our author's productions in animation and interest, 
while for unaffected pathos and impressive morality 
it is superior to all. It constitutes a most satisfac- 
tory and appropriate sequel to the " GEdipus 
Tyrannus," inasmuch as it supplies that moral effect, 
in which its precursor is unquestionably deficient. 
To behold an individual, like (Edipus, suffering 
on account of crimes into which he had been un- 
consciously betrayed by the very means which he 
had taken to avoid them, is a painful, if not an 
unnatural spectacle ; and we derive little or no in- 
struction from the calamities of one, who is pu- 
nished rather from the caprice of the Gods, than 
for actual and deliberate transgression. But when 
we contemplate the same individual, as in the suc- 
ceeding drama, enduring with patient resignation 
the unmerited anger of the Deities, and looking 
only to a future state of existence for deliverance 
and repose, we are admonished in the most for- 
cible manner, that, as it is the first duty of man to 
avoid the perpetration of crime, so the most accep- 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 105 

table expiation of guilt, is a meek and unrepining 
submission to its penalty. 

It may also be added, that if, according to the 
trite proverb, example be the most impressive and 
useful mode of instruction, then is this drama 
more than commonly instructive. For the charac- 
ters which it delineates are of universal occur- 
rence. If there are few monarchs, on whom it can 
devolve to imitate the dignified magnanimity of 
Theseus, there are many sufferers, who may prac- 
tise the resignation of GEdipus, and many daugh- 
ters, who may emulate the piety of Antigone. In 
reference to the last-mentioned character, indeed, 
we may unhesitatingly affirm, that in no one unin- 
spired composition is there presented a more natu- 
ral and affecting delineation of filial virtue, than is 
here depicted in the daughter of (Edipus. 

But though the softer emotions — love, and ten- 
derness, and pity — are the predominant charac- 
teristics of this tragedy, the poet, in his manage- 
ment of the catastrophe, has soared to the loftiest 
elevation of grandeur and sublimity. As the life 
of GEdipus had been extraordinary and eventful, 



106 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

so was his death to be awful and mysterious. He 
had not lived, neither could he die, like an ordi- 
nary mortal. He bore a " charmed life ;" a life 
exempted, as it were, from the common assaults of 
mortality, and only to be terminated by some signal 
and unprecedented interposition of Divinity. Such 
is indeed the " dignus vindice nodus," which 
sanctions supernatural interference. Accordingly, 
the earth convulsed and trembling, the appalling 
and incessant thunder, the glare of lightning, 
and the howling of the storm, the solemn inter- 
vals of silence, in which the voice of some in- 
visible messenger is heard to murmur from beneath 
a summons to the devoted monarch, the conster- 
nation even of the resolute and intrepid Theseus, 
all these tend to produce a scene, which, for lof- 
tiness of conception and magnificence of execu- 
tion, is not excelled by any relic of the Grecian 
drama, even in the compositions of the wild and 
terrific iEschylus. 

This drama is also peculiarly valuable, on ac- 
count of the light which it throws upon the reli- 
gious observances of antiquity, of which the ex- 
piatory homage of (Edipus in the grove of the Fu- 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 107 

ries is a conspicuous instance. Should the English 
reader consider these descriptions somewhat too te- 
dious and circumstantial, he may perhaps be con- 
ciliated by the reflection, that the ancient drama, — 
how unlike the modern ! — was the popular vehicle of 
religious as well as moral instruction. He will at 
least be recompensed for the labour of perusal, if the 
contemplation of the rigid devotion with which the 
heathen performed the services of their religion, 
should furnish him with an additional motive for the 
more zealous and conscientious fulfilment of the 
duties of his own. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



CEdipus 

Antigone. 

. Daughters of CEdipus. 

ISMENE, 



»NE, -I 



Theseus, King of Athens. 

Creon. 

Polynices, Son of CEdipus. 

Athenian. 

Messenger. 

Chorus of aged Inhabitants of Colonos. 



OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 



CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE. 



<Ed. Say, daughter of a blind and aged sire, 
Antigone, what region have we reached, 
Or whose the city? Who will here extend 
A scanty pittance for the passing day 
To the poor wandering (Edipus, who asks 
But for a little, and receiving less 
Ev'n than that little, counts the boon enough. 
For stern afflictions, long-protracted years, 
And fortitude of soul, have taught me patience. 
But now, my child, if haply thou discern 
One resting on unconsecrated seats, 



110 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Or by the hallowed groves, there rest my steps, 
And seat me there, that thus we may inquire 
What land hath given us refuge ? Strangers here 
We seek the natives of the state, to learn, 
And what we hear, perform. 

Ant. O CEdipus, 
My much-afflicted father, the high towers, 
Which girt the city, rise in distant view : 
The spot on which we stand, I deem, is holy. 
Here laurels, olives, vines, in one green shade 
Are close inwoven ; and within the grove 
The nightingales make frequent melody. 
Rest now thy faltering limbs on this rude stone ; 
Such lengthened wanderings ill befit thine age. 

(Ed. Then seat me here, and watch beside the 
blind. 

Ant. That mournful office time too well hath 
taught me. 

(Ed. Canst thou then tell me on what place we stand ? 

Ant. The land is that of Athens ; but the spot 
I know not ; this each passing traveller 
Hath told already. Wilt thou I depart 
To question of the place ? 

(Ed. Yea, if there be 
Inhabitants, my daughter, to inform thee. 



CEDIPTJS AT COLONOS. Ill 

Ant. There are inhabitants ; but now my task 
Is needless, for I see a stranger near us. 

(Ed. And with quick pace is he advancing hither? 

Ant. The man e'en now hath reached us ; what 
thou wilt 
Demand ; — for he is present to inform thee. 

Enter an Athenian. 



CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ATHENIAN. 

(Ed. Stranger, apprised by her, whose sight alone 
Guides both herself and me, that thou art here 
Arrived in welcome moment to unfold 
What much we long to know — 

Ath. Ere thou dost urge 
Inquiry further, quit that sacred seat ; 
No foot of man may tread this hallowed soil. 

(Ed. What is the place, — devoted to what Power? 

Ath. From mortal touch and mortal dwelling pure 
Is that mysterious grove ; ' the awful Powers, 



Eptpofioi ©eat, the venerable Goddesses, or Furies ; by 
name, Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera. They were also 



112 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Daughters of Earth and Darkness, dwell within. 
(Ed. By what most holy name should I invoke 

them? 
Ath. We call them in this land th' Eumenides, 
The all-beholding Powers ; in other lands, 
By various lofty titles men adore them. 

(Ed. Propitious now may they receive their 
suppliant, 
That never may I quit their fated seat. 
Ath. What may this mean ? 
(Ed. A symbol of my doom. 
Ath. 'Twere bold in me to force thee from the 
spot, 
Ere thus the mandate of the state enjoin. 

(Ed. O stranger, by the Gods, disdain thou not 
To answer all a wretched wanderer asks thee. 
Ath. Speak ; and from me thou shalt not meet 

disdain. 
(Ed. What is the region, then, which now re- 
ceives us? 



styled the Eumenides, or " Benevolent." The reader, who 
is curious to learn in what manner they acquired an appella- 
tion so incongruous with the offices usually ascribed to them, 
may consult the " Eumenides" of iEschylus. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. H3 

Ath. Far as I know, thou too shalthear the whole. 
The place is holy all. Here reigns supreme 
The mighty Neptune ; here the Power of Flame, 2 
The Titan-God, Prometheus ; where thy feet 
Are resting now, is called the brazen way, 
The bulwark of great Athens ; while the fields 
Adjacent claim for their illustrious Lord 
Colonus the equestrian, and from him 
The circling regions all deduce their name. 
Such are the things I tell thee ; not alone 
By words ennobled, but familiar use. 

(Ed. Do any dwell around this hallowed spot ? 

Ath. Yes, they who from the God their name derive. 

(Ed. 3 Is there a king, or bear the people sway ? 

Ath. The King who rules the city rules here also. 



a Tlvptpopos 0eo?. This appellation is peculiarly applicable to 
Prometheus; because, as we are told by Pausanias, the 
youths, who contended in the race, called uyuv KxpnuUxos, 
lighted their torches at his altar here mentioned, and ran 
towards the city. — Potter. 

3 It may seem surprising, that CEdipus, who had so long been 
Monarch of Thebes, should not know whether a neighbouring 
state was a republic or a monarchy ; but it will afterwards 
appear, that CEdipus only asks this question for a feint, that 
he may not be known, and in order to gain fuller intelli- 
gence.— Brumoy. 

VOL. I. I 



114 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. Stands his high throne in equity and might? 

Ath. His name may answer this. Tis Theseus, son 
Of iEgeus, late our Lord. 

(Ed. Is there of you 
One who will bear our message to his ear ? 

Ath. Aught to recount, or ask his presence hither? 

(Ed. That for a trivial succour he may reap 
A rich reward. 

Ath. Reward ! and what reward 
Can a blind wanderer on a king confer ? 

(Ed. The things we would reveal are not less clear 
Than if our sight had traced them. 

Ath. Know'st thou, stranger, 
That thou art not deceived ? and yet thou seem'st 
In all, except thy fortunes, truly noble. 
Remain where now I see thee, till I seek 
Those who inhabit the encircling meads, 
Not the far city, and relate my tale. 
Be it their task to judge, if in this grove 
Thou mayst remain, or must again depart. 

[Exit Athenian. 



(EDTPUS AT COLONOS. ] J 5 



CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE. 

(Ed. My daughter, is the stranger now departed 1 
Ant. He is, my father ; all around is still. 
Speak what thou list, for I alone am nigh thee. 
(Ed. Dread Powers of fearful aspect, since your 
seats 
Have lent my wearied limbs their first repose, 
Be not relentless or to me or Phoebus, 
Who, when his voice my countless woes denounced. 
Foretold a welcome though a distant end. 
When I should reach the destined realm — where find 
A rest and refuge in the sheltering grove 
Of venerable Powers — that there my course 
Of sorrow and of agony should close; 
With rich reward to those who should receive me, 
To those, who thrust me from their land, destruction; 
And that undoubted signals should proclaim 
The hour ordained by fate — or earthquake's roar, 
Thunders, or lightnings of Almighty Jove. 
Hence well I know 'twas your own augury, 
That to this hallowed grove my wanderings led. 
I had not else thus lighted first on you, 

1 2 



116 {EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

*The wine-abhorring, pure myself from wine, 

And on this rude yet awful seat reclined. 

Now, gracious Powers, Apollo's word confirm, 

And grant at length a limit to my woes, 

If I have felt enough of wretchedness, — 

The slave of miseries far beyond the lot 

To man's sad race assigned. Come, then, O come, 

Propitious daughters of primeval Night; 

And thou, from thine own patron Pallas named, 

Fair Athens, noblest of our Grecian states ; 

Pity the shade of wretched (Edipus ; 

Alas ! I am not now what I have been. 

Ant. Cease, cease. I see some aged men advance, 
Perchance with purpose to explore thy seat. 

(Ed. I will forbear. Conduct me from the path, 
And screen me in the grove, that I may learn 
Their secret conference. Knowledge thus obtained 
May best direct us how to act with prudence. 

[Exeunt (Edipus and Antigone. 



4 'AoUois . Wine was never used in the sacrifices offered to 
the Furies. Hence the Chorus, in enjoining (Edipus to pro- 
pitiate the Goddesses, expressly command him, ^l <ir%o<r<pipiv 
P&v, not to present wine. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. \\7 



Chor 



STROPHE. 

Look ! look ! who was he ? where abides he now ? 

Or whither from the spot hath fled, 

5 Restless, most restless of mankind ? 

Dost thou behold him ? Search around, 

And shout on every side. 

Who — who is this sad aged wanderer ? 

Doubtless of foreign land, or his rash foot 

Had never trod the grove 

Of those unconquered Virgin-Powers, 

Whose name we tremble but to breathe, 

Whose mystic shrine we pass 

With far-averted eye, 

And pondering, silent and devout, 

On happier omens there. 



5 'A*o§£raTos. Literally, according to Brunck's interpreta- 
tion, most insatiable. The translator confesses himself at a 
loss to comprehend the full meaning of this epithet; he has 
therefore adopted the rendering of Potter, " most restless," 
in preference to that of Francklin, who has " most pro- 
phane." 



118 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS 

But rumour tells that one hath now arrived, 

Revering not the laws, 

Whom I have sought with keen observant glance 

Throughout the sacred grove, 

Yet still he mocks my search. 

Enter (Edipus and Antigone. 



OZDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 

(Ed. Behold him here ; for by your words I know 
I am the man ye seek. 

Ch. Ah me ! to hear and to behold how fearful ! 

(Ed. O deem me not a 6 scorner of your laws. 

Ch. Protector Jove, who is this aged man ? 

(Ed. One on whose lot no favouring Power hath 
smiled 
Ye rulers of the land ! 



6 "Atipov. The term " outlaw," which Francklin has selected 
as peculiarly appropriate, does not appear to give the precise 
signification of the original word. It refers not so much to one 
" whom the laws of his country have expelled from all the 
benefits and privileges of society," as to one who does not 
recognise or regard the sanction of the laws. It would, per- 
haps, be more appropriately rendered by the word " lawless." 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 119 

Be this the proof,— I had not wandered else, 

Led by another's eye, 

Or leaned, though weighty, on so frail a stay. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Ch. Woe ! woe ! unhappy ! thou, it seems, art 
doomed 
To pine with sightless orbs, oppressed 
By years, and bowed with wretchedness. 
Yet, if my power avail, to woe 
Thou shalt not add this curse ; 
For thou hast passed, far passed, the bound assigned. 
Ah ! tread not thou that green and hallowed grove, 
Where with the honied draught 
Commingling, its pure limpid stream 
The full and flowing goblet pours. 
This, hapless stranger, this 
With cautious step beware. 
Recede — depart — a lengthened space 
Remains between us still. 
Dost thou not hear, unhappy wanderer ? 
If thou hast aught to ask 
In conference, quit that sacred spot, 
And where the laws allow 
Demand ; till then refrain. 



120 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. What, O my daughter! should we now 
resolve ? 

Ant. Father, we must obey the citizens, 
And yield, as fits our state, without reluctance. 

(Ed. Sustain me then. 

Ant. My hand e'en now sustains thee. 

(Ed. O strangers, wrong me not, 
Since, yielding now, I quit the sacred seat. 

Ch. Nay, from that very seat, old man, 
Know, none shall force thee. 

(Ed. Should I yet advance ? 

Ch. Yea, forward. 

(Ed. Forward still? 

Ch. Maiden, do thou his footseps onward guide. 
Thou seest the bound prescribed. 

Ant. Follow me then, with dark and faltering step ; 
Follow, my father, whither now I lead thee. 
A stranger in a foreign land, 
O thou of many woes ! 
Whate'er the state abrlors 
Endure to hate, and what it wills, revere. 

(Ed. Then lead me, O my child, where guiltless all 
We may securely speak, 
And unoffending hear, 
Nor strive we more with stern necessity. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 121 

Ch. Stop ! nor beyond the rocky pavement aught 
Thy venturous foot advance. 

(Ed. Thus far ? 

Ch. Enough ; thou hear'st— enough ! 

(Ed. May I now sit ? 

Ch. On the crag's sloping verge 
Cautious with reverent awe thy form incline. 

Ant. Father, 'tis mine, in silent tenderness, 
Alas ! how sad a task ! 
To guide thy dark and dubious steps. 
On my beloved hand 
Rest thy weak powerless frame. 

(Ed. O doom of abject misery ! 

Ch. Since thou hast now obeyed, ill-fated man, 
Disclose who gave thee birth, 
What mighty woe constrains thee thus to roam, 
And where thy country ? — 

(Ed. Strangers, I have no country — Ask no more. 

Ch. Why thus evade, old man ? 

(Ed. Ask not, I pray thee, ask not of my race, 
Nor question aught beyond. 

Ch. Ha ! what means this? 

(Ed. Dire is my race. 

Ch. Yet speak. 

(Ed. Ah me, my daughter, how can I reply ? 



122 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Ch. Say of what line thou cam'st, 
Who, stranger, was thy sire ? 

(Ed. What shall I do, my daughter? Woe is me ! 

Ant. Speak ; since the hand of fate lies heavy 
on thee. 

(Ed. Then will I speak ; concealment 'vails not now. 

Ch. Thou tarriest long; but speed — at once reply. 

(Ed. Know ye a certain child of Laius ? 

Ch. Ha! 

(Ed. Sprung from the race of Labdacus ? 

Ch. Great Jove ! 

(Ed. The hapless (Edipus?— 

Ch. Art thou that wretch ? 

(Ed. Oh, start not thus appalled. I am, I am. 

Ch. Alas ! 

(Ed. I am most wretched. 

Ch. Gracious Heaven ! 

(Ed. What darker doom, my daughter, now 
impends ? 

Ch. Away, away, and quit my land for ever. 

(Ed. What thou hast promised how wilt thou fulfil? 

Ch. Nay, Heaven's avenging justice smites not him 
Who wreaks but wrong for wrong ; 
And fraud repaid with fraud, 
On the false wretch, who first deceived, 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 123 

Brings sorrow, not success. 

Thou from these seats, once more 

An outcast, speed thee — speed thee from the land, 

Lest thine unhallowed presence blast the city. 

Ant. O venerable strangers, though ye shrunk 
Recoiling from the tale 
Of my poor aged sire, 
Speaking of dark involuntary deeds ; 
I do conjure you, turn not thus from me, 
Me, while in suppliant anguish, I implore 
Compassion for a father, and regard 
Your steadfast gaze with unaverted eye. 
Ah ! deem me now as one 
Of your own kindred, and let pity wake 
To aid the lost. On you, as on the Gods, 
Our hopes depend. Oh! then relent, and grant 
This unexpected boon. 
I here adjure you by each hallowed tie, 
Your child, your wife, your duty, and your God. 
Where will ye find the man who can escape, 
When Fate's stern hand constrains him to despair ? 

Ch. Know, child of GMipus, we pity thee, 
Nor gaze relentless on thy woe-worn sire ; 
But we revere the Gods, nor dare rescind ' 
The firm decision of our former mandate. 



124 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. What then doth Glory's vaunted name avail, 
What the fair honours of illustrious fame, 
Unproved by deeds as noble ? Rumour boasts 
Of Athens, most observant of the Gods, 
Athens alone, of all our states, the first 
To save the stranger, and the lost to aid. 
What are those vaunts to me ? Ye from those seats 
Allured, and now expel me from your land, 
Awed by a name alone. It is not me, 
Nor yet my deeds ye fear ; for in those deeds 
I have but suffered — not inflicted — wrong, 
If I may dare my wretched parents name, 
For whom ye thus contemn me. This I know 
Full well. And shall I then be foully branded 
Base e'en by nature, when my sole offence 
Is — to have borne injustice, and revenged it ? 
Nay, had I e'en been conscious of the crime, 
I were not thus abandoned. But I went, . 
Oh how unconscious of the path I trod ! 
But much have I endured from those who knew 
The fearful wreck they wrought. By the great Gods, 
I now adjure you, strangers, at your will 
Hither removed, O save me, save me here, 
Nor, while ye think to venerate your Gods, 
Contemn their holiest laws. Know, while they gaze 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 125 

Approving on the righteous, they behold 
The impious too, and guilt shall never win 
Escape or shelter from the wrath of Heaven. 

then forbear to dim the radiant fame 

Of generous Athens, leaguing with the lawless ; 

But as, relying on thy plighted faith, 

Thou hast received me, save and shield me still, 

Nor spurn with cold contempt this abject frame, 

Thus worn and wasted by consuming woes. 

Sacred I come, and pious, charged alone 

With blessings to your state; and when your King, 

Whoe'er he be, is present to my tale, 

1 will inform thee all; — till he arrive 
Insult me not. 

Ch. Thine arguments, old man, 
Are urged by weighty reasonings, and constrain me 
Much to revere thee. Things of import high 
Thy words involve. Be it enough for me 
To wait the wise decision of our monarch. 

(Ed. Where, strangers, doth your monarch hold 
his court ? 

Ch. In his ancestral city ; and the man 
Who saw thee first, and bade my presence here, 
Passed with like tidings to the monarch charged. 

(Ed. Will he then deem me worthy of regard, 



126 CEDIPUS AT COLONGS. 

And deign his audience to a blind old man ? 

Ch. Doubtless, when he shall hear thy name. 

(Ed. And who 
Will be the bearer of a word like this ? 

Ch. 7 Long have thy wanderings been, and tra- 
vellers soon 
Diffuse their tales afar ; these he will hear, 
And, be assured, will come. Widely, old man, 
Thy fame is blazoned ; though hrs step were slow, 
Thy name would urge him to redoubling speed. 

(Ed. O ! be his coming prosperous to his state, 
Prosperous to me. What man of virtuous deeds 
Befriendeth not himself? 

Ant. Almighty Jove ! 
What shall I say, and whither lead my thoughts ? 

(Ed. What mean'st thou, my Antigone ? 

Ant. I see 
A woman, on a fleet Sicilian steed, 
Advancing hither ; from the sun's full beams 
A close Thessalian bonnet shades her brow. 



7 MuKfa, HeXevQoq. Potter interprets these words to signify, 
that CEdipus had advanced far into the Athenian territories. 
Certainly they cannot refer to the distance between Colonos 
and Athens, which did not exceed ten stadia. 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 127 

What shall I say ? Oh b is it she indeed, 
Or do my fond imaginings deceive me ? 
Again I doubt and am assured by turns, 
Uncertain what to think. — My doubts are o'er ; 
I know her now ; that sweet and welcome smile 
Hath scattered all misgivings, and I see 
"lis she, my dear, my ever-loved Ismene. 

(Ed. What hast thou said, my daughter ? 

Ant. That I see 
Thy child, my father, my dear sister too ; 
A moment — and her accents will assure thee. 

Enter Ismene. 



(EDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 

Is. O ye, the names most treasured in my heart, 
My father and my sister, though in pain 
I traced your wanderings, now a keener grief 
Dims my sad eye while gazing on your sorrows. 

(Ed. And art thou here, my child ? 

Is. Unhappy father ! 

(Ed. Sprung from my blood — 

Is. To share thy miseries ! 



128 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. And art thou come ? 

Is. Not without desperate peril. 

(Ed. Embrace me, dearest child. 

Is. In one fond clasp 
I thus embrace you both. 

(Ed. Her, too, and me. 

Is. Myself the third in sorrow. 

(Ed. O my child, 
What brought thee hither ? 

7*. Anxious thought for thee. 

(Ed. Concern for me ! 

Is. Yea, fraught with weighty tidings, 
And unattended, save by this true slave, 
Alone of all yet faithful. 

(Ed. Where are now 
Thy brothers, nerved by youth for martial toils ? 

Is. They are, where Fate constrains, in darkest 
peril ! 

(Ed. How have they bowed their manners and 
their mind 
To the base customs of inglorious Egypt ! 
Where men, immured at home, direct the loom, 
While in the field their women still procure 
The sustenance of life. Thus too of you, 
My children, those whom best such toil behoved 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 129 

Like timid maids, rest idly in their home ; 
While ye, my daughters, in their stead partake 
A wretched father's sorrows. She, indeed, 

[To Antigone. 
Since feebler childhood passed, and blooming youth 
Breathed vigour through her frame, still on my path 
Attendant, ever wanders where I roam, 
Guides my weak steps, and oft through pathless wilds 
Strays with unsandalled foot, bereft of food, 
Endures the frequent showers and sultry sun, 
Nor heeds the splendours of a kingly board, 
So her fond care may tend a father's need. 
Thou too, Ismene, oft unknown to Thebes 
Hast left thy home, to tell thy wandering sire 
The oracles relating to his doom ; 
And when they thrust me from my native land, 
Didst thou stand forth, my firm and faithful guide. 
And now, beloved daughter, to thy sire 
What errand dost thou bear ? what weighty cause 
Moved thee to quit thy home ? Thou dost not come, 
Full well I know, with serious charge unfraught, 
And much I fear lest new alarms impend. 

Is. I will not tell thee, father, all the toils, 
The ills I bore in seeking thine abode ; 

vol. i, k 



130 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

These now are vanquished, — and 'twere worse than 

vain 
Once more to waken, by recounting, woes. 
My errand here was to relate the ills 
In which thy hapless sons are now immersed. 
It seemed at first their only wish to yield 
The throne to Creon, nor pollute the state, 
Weighing the curse entailed on all their race, 
Which plunged in ruin thy devoted house. 
Now by some God, or frenzy of the mind, 
Unhappy pair ! perverted, mutual strife 
Fires them to rancour, struggling for the throne. 
Reckless of natural rights, the younger spurns 
His elder, Polynices, and expels him 
Both from his rightful throne and father-land. 
He, as the voice of Rumour widely tells, 
Fled to the vales of Argos, and contracts 
A new alliance ; arms his martial friends ; 
And vaunts that Argos shall requite his wrongs 
On guilty Thebes, and raise his name to heaven. 
No vague and vain reports are these, my father, 
But facts too surely proved. But when the Gods 
Will look in mercy on thy lengthened woes, 
Alas ! I cannot learn. 



OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 131 

(Ed. Hast thou then hope, 
That Heaven will yet regard, and save me still ? 

Is. I have, my father ; for I firmly trust 
The recent voice oracular. 

(Ed. What voice? 
What, daughter, hath it presaged ? 

Is. That an hour 
Will come when Thebes shall seek thee, living still, 
Or dead, for her deliverance. 

(Ed. Who can look 
For prosperous fortune to a wretch like me ? 

Is. The oracles proclaim thou art their might. 

(Ed. I deemed that I was nothing ; am I then 
Once more a man ? 

Is. The Gods exalt thee now ; 
Before— they willed thy downfall. 

(Ed. What avails it 
To raise in age the wretch whose youth they blasted ? 

Is. Know, for this cause will Creon quickly come. 

(Ed. With what intent, my daughter? tell me all. 

Is. That near the Theban confines they may hold 
thee, 
Though ne'er allowed to pass the sacred bound. 

(Ed. What can one prostrate at their gate avail 
them? 



132 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Is. Thy tomb, if reared in other lands, to them 
Would prove most fatal. 

(Ed. Though the God withheld 
His certain presage, this were promptly learnt. 

Is. And therefore seek the Thebans to confine thee 
Near their own realms, not thine own master there. 
(Ed. Would they inter me too in Theban ground ? 
Is. This must not be ; the kindred blood forbids. 
(Ed. Then never, never, shall they work their will. 
Is. An hour must come when Thebes shall rue 

thy vengeance. 
(Ed. What strange event, my child, shall work 

this marvel ? 
Is. Thy quenchless wrath, when round thy tomb 

they stand. 
(Ed. From whom didst thou these oracles receive? 
Is. From those who late returned from Delphi's 

shrine. 
(Ed. Hath then Apollo thus foretold of me ? 
Is. So those declared, who came but now to Thebes. 
(Ed. Which of my shameless sons heard aught 

of this? 
7*. Each heard alike, and both must know it well. 
(Ed. Yet those degenerate wretches, warned of this, 
Could grasp at empire, and neglect a father. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 133 

Is. I grieve to hear such tidings- — yet I bear 
them. 

(Ed. Ne'er may the Gods extinguish the fierce 
flames 
Of this dread fatal strife ; but to my will 
Award the issue of that deadly feud, 
Which now with equal weapons they prepare : 
So should the proud usurper vaunt no more 
His sceptre and his throne, nor e'er to Thebes 
Should he, who left his native towers, return. 
They, they at least, nor succoured nor retained 
Their wretched father, from his country spurned 
With foul dishonour ; but assenting joined 
In the stern edict which proclaimed me exile. 
Thou wilt reply, to mine own earnest prayer 
The state that melancholy boon assigned : 
But 'tis not thus ; — on that disastrous day, 
When frenzy fired my soul, and all I asked 
Was but to die, and hide my shame for ever, 
Crushed by o'erwhelming rocks ; — no friendly hand 
Was stretched to rid me of the life I hated ; 
But when the lenient hand of time had soothed 
Despair to resignation, and I learned 
That mine own desperate frenzy had inflicted 
A wound more piercing than the crime deserved ; 



134 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Then, then, the city thrust me sternly forth 
To most reluctant exile ; and these sons, 
My noble offspring, who had power to aid 
Their father in his need, that power withheld, 
Deigned not to raise a word in my defence ; 
But drove me out a poor unfriended outcast. 
While by these virgins, far as their weak sex 
Avails to aid me, all hath been supplied, — 
Meet sustenance, serene though lowly rest, 
And all the tender cares of duteous love; 
8 While my base sons with impious ardour grasp 
Crowns, sceptres, kingdoms, and forget a father. 
But never shall they gain support from me, 
Nor shall they flourish on the throne of Thebes 
In glad and prosperous grandeur ; this I know, 
Hearing these oracles, and pondering well 
The sure response by Phoebus breathed of old. 
And let them send their Creon, or some chief 
As potent and as base, to seek me here ; 



8 In extenuation of the rancorous malediction of CEdipus, 
it should be observed, that the godlike doctrine of the for- 
giveness of injuries obtained no place in the heathen systems 
of morality, where revenge was accounted natural, or even 
laudable. 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 135 

If ye, O strangers, with these awful Powers, 
Your tutelary Gods, will here stand forth 
To grant me succour, much will ye promote 
Your country's welfare and my foes' despair. 

Ch. Thou, (Edipus, and these thy daughters, claim 
Our warmest, liveliest pity ; but since thou 
Hast pledged thyself my country's saviour, first 
Would I inform thee what involves thy good. 

(Ed. Speak, friend, to one who will in all obey thee. 

Ch. Make due atonement to those awful Powers, 
Whose hallowed grove thy footsteps first have trod. 

(Ed. And with what rites ? my friends, inform 
me all. 

Ch. 9 First, from yon sacred ever-gushing stream, 
Drawn with pure hands, the due libations bring. 

(Ed. What follows, when th' unsullied stream is 
drawn 1 

Ch. Goblets are there, by nicest art enchased, 
Whose brim and double handles thou must crown — 

(Ed. With boughs, or slender threads ? or with 
what rites ? 

9 This is the commencement of that scene alluded to in our 
introductory remarks, which so minutely developes the reli- 
gious ceremonies of the ancients. The reader must endea- 
vour to judge of it as it would appear to an Athenian audience, 
not as it appears to himself. 



136 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Ch. Wreathe round the soft wool of a new- 
shorn lamb. 

(Ed. Tis well ; what next befits me to discharge ? 

Ch. Turn to the orient morn, and pour the stream — 

(Ed. From the same goblets thou hast just de- 
scribed ? 

Ch. Yea, pour libations trine ; drain with the third 
The consecrated bowl. 

(Ed. Instruct me yet ; 
What should the bowl contain ? 

Ch. The simple stream 
With honey tempered — wine be absent thence I 

(Ed. And when the soil's dark verdure drinks the 
stream? 

Ch. With both thy hands place fresh-plucked 
olive-boughs, 
Thrice nine ; — then invocate the Powers in prayer. 

(Ed. I joy to hear ; for this is solemn all. 

Ch. Since here we call them " Powers Benevolent," 
That with propitious minds they may accept 
And aid the lowly suppliant, for thyself 
Implore their mercy, or in thy behalf 
Another. Let thy prayers be brief, and breathed 
In low and whispered tone. Then from the spot 
Retire — and turn not back. These rites performed, 
I shall stand forth undaunted at thy side ; 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 137 

If not, old man, I can but tremble for thee. 

(Ed. Hear ye the natives of this land, my daughters ? 

Ant. We hear— what should be done do thou 
command. 

(Ed. These rites /cannot now discharge, debarred 
By twofold ills — infirmity and blindness. 
Of you, my daughters, one the homage pay. 
I deem one soul, with pious feeling fraught, 
Meet as a thousand for a task like this. 
Then be the hallowed rites discharged with speed. 
Yet leave me not alone ; these faltering limbs 
Refuse to bear me onward unsustained, 
Nor dare I move without a watchful guide. 

Is. The task enjoined be mine ; but tell me first 
Where is the spot — where all the rite demands ? 

Ch. Far in the grove retired. There one resides, 
virgin, to provide whate'er thou need. 

Is. For this I now depart. My sister, thou 
Remain to watch our father ; toil is light, 
When we but labour in a parent's cause. 

[Exit ISMENE, 



OZDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 

Ch. Stranger, 'tis painful to awake 



138 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Griefs that have long and calmly slept, 
Yet do I long to ask — 

(Ed. Ah! what? 

Ch. Whence this interminable woe, 
That rankles in thy breast ? 

(Ed. By all the reverence which a guest may claim, 
Explore it not. Foul deeds have I endured. 

Ch. Wide hath the rumour spread, nor yet hath 
ceased, 
And I would learn the truth. 

(Ed. Ah me ! 

Ch. Assent, I pray thee. 

(Ed. Woe is me ! 

Ch. Yield, for I too will grant whate'er thou ask. 

(Ed. Strangers, dire evils have I borne, 
Borne how reluctantly, let Heaven attest ! 
Involuntary all. 

Ch. And from what cause ? — 

(Ed. To an unhallowed couch 
The city linked me, guiltless of the crime. 

Ch. And hast thou then profaned 
The kindred couch I tremble but to name ? 

(Ed.'Tis death to hear you, strangers ; — but these two 
Sprung from my blood — 

Ch. Ha ! whence ? 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 139 

(Ed. My daughters these, and pledges of my 
crime — 

Ch. Almighty Jove ! 

(Ed. Both born of her who gave 
Their father life — 

Ch. Are these thy daughters then, 
Daughters at once and sisters of their sire ?— 

(Ed. Alas ! 

Ch. Yes ; thou dost well to weep. 
The woes thou hast endured are infinite. 

(Ed. And e'en oblivion's solace is denied me. 

Ch. And thou hast done — 

(Ed. I have not done. 

Ch. What then? 

(Ed. A gift the state conferred, and I received, 
Wretch that I was ! oh had I ne'er deserved it ! 
Thence all my woes. 

Ch. How thus, unhappy man! — 
Didst thou not shed the blood ? — 

(Ed. Why this demand ? what dost thou seek to 
trace ? 

Ch. A father's blood ?— 

(Ed. Alas ! 
Thy words revive the pangs that seemed to sleep. 

Ch. Didst thou then slay ?— 



140 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. I slew him, yet I had — 

Ch. What? 

(Ed. A most righteous plea. 

Ch. Speak it. 

(Ed. I will 
Since all unconscious on the crime I rushed, 
And struck the blow in ignorance, by the law 
I am absolved, unknowing what I did. 

Ch. But lo ! great Theseus, iEgeus' royal son. 
Hastes to the spot, excited by thy fame. 

Enter Theseus. 



THESEUS, OZDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 

Thes. Long by the voice of general fame apprised 
Of thy sad tale, and that infuriate deed 
Which quenched thy visual orbs in utter gloom, 
I knew thee, son of Laius ; as I came, 
Much have I heard, and know thee now more surely. 
Thine abject garb and aspect of despair 
Too plainly speak thy fortunes. Hapless King, 
Thou wak'st my pity ; and I would but ask 
What boon thou seek'st from me or from my state, 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 141 

Thou and the sad associate of thy sorrows. 

Unfold thy wish ; and arduous were th' emprize 

Where thou shouldst ask my utmost aid in vain. 

10 1 too was nurtured in a foreign land, 

As thou art now ; an exile's woes to me, 

An exile's perils, are familiar all. 

Then never, never, from the stranger's prayer, 

Who comes like thee, relentless will I turn, 

Or needful aid withhold. I am a man, 

As thou art ; and my power to rule th' events 

To-morrow may bring forth transcends not thine. 

(Ed. Theseus ! in these brief words thy generous 
soul 
Hath shone conspicuous ; hence a brief reply 
May well suffice me. Who I am, and who 
My father, what my country, thou hast said. 
Nought then remains, save to prefer my prayer 
For all I need, and then our conference close. 

Thes. Speak, then, at once, that I may know thy 
wish. 

(Ed. I come to proffer thee this withered frame, 



10 Theseus was educated in the court of Pittheus, King- 
of Troezene. 



142 OEDIPUS AT QOLONOS. 

A gift to sight unseemly ; yet endowed 
With costlier treasures than the loveliest form. 

Thes. What rich requital dost thou bring me here ? 

(Ed. This mayst thou learn in time — thou canst not 
now. 

Thes. When shall thy proffered good approve its 
worth ? 

(Ed. When I am dead, and thou hast reared my 
tomb. 

Thes. The last and saddest boon of life is all 
Thy prayer regards. The care of all between 
Is unremembered, or contemned by thee. 

(Ed. In this one prayer are these concentred all. 

Thes. Yet light and trivial is the grace implored. 

(Ed. Mark me ! no trivial contest shall ensue. 

Thes. Of me, or of thy children, dost thou pre- 
sage ? 

(Ed. They would constrain me to return to Thebes. 

Thes. If such their wish, it ill becomes thee thus 
To roam a willing exile. 

(Ed. When I sought 
Such refuge, they refused. 

Thes. Oh, most unwise ! 
How vain is wrath in wretchedness like thine ! 

(Ed. Forbear reproaches, till thou hear my plea. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 143 

Thes. Speak — I were wrong to judge thee unin- 
formed. 

(Ed. O Theseus ! I have suffered woes on woes 
Exhaustless heaped. 

Thes. Dost thou by this intend 
The ancient ruin of thy fated house 1 

(Ed. Ah no ! in this the general voice of Greece 
Hath left me nought to tell thee. 

Thes. Do thy griefs 
Transcend the common sufferings of our race ? 

(Ed. They do, indeed. By mine own heartless sons 
To exile thrust, like some loathed parricide, 
Ne'er may I tread my native soil again. 

Thes. Why, then^ recall thee, if consigned to 
dwell 
For evermore apart ? 

(Ed. The voice of Heaven 
Constrains them thus to act. 

Thes. And of what ills 
Do these predictions wake the boding dread ? 

(Ed. Discomfiture and death from this fair land. 

Thes. Whence shall such fatal feud between us rise ? 

(Ed. Most honoured son of iEgeus, the great Gods 
Alone the high prerogative may claim 
To shun the blight of age, the stroke of death ; 



144 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

All else must yield to Time's unconquered sway. 
The vigour of the earth, man's martial might, 
Are doomed alike to fade ; fair faith expires, 
And falsehood springs florescent So in men 
By dearest ties united, and in states 
By firmest leagues to amity constrained, 
The same true soul remains not. What we now 
Delight to cherish, in the lapse of time, 
Or wakes abhorrence, or revives desire. 
Thus now, though all is peace with thee and Thebes, 
Thanks to thy generous faith, revolving time, 
Which in its ceaseless course gives constant birth 
To countless days and nights, shall yet produce 
The fated season, when for trivial wrongs, 
Your plighted concord shall dissolve in air : 
Then this cold body, in the sleep of death 
Entombed, shall drink their warm and vital blood, 
If Jove be mightiest still, and Jove-born Phoebus 
Retain his truth unbroken. But I pause — 
Let me not breathe what Heaven has veiled in 

darkness. 
Guard thou thy proffered faith, nor shalt thou say 
In (Edipus thy hospitable land 
A vain and useless habitant received, 
Unless in this the Gods themselves deceive me. 



(EDI PUS AT COLONOS. 145 

Ch. Before, O King! to thee and to the state 
Such promises he proffered to fulfil. 

Tlies, Oh, who would spurn the warm benevolence 
Of one like him, to whom this altar first, 
Common to all, its friendly refuge lends? 
Then, though a suppliant to these Powers he came, 
To me and to my people doth repay 
No trivial recompense. Whom I, impressed 
With deepest reverence, never will repulse ; 
But in my realms a safe asylum grant. 
If here it please the stranger to remain, 
To guard him be your charge. If thou prefer 
With me to quit the spot, O (Edipus, 
Choose which thou wilt, and my assent command, 

(Ed. Pour down thy richest blessings on such men, 
Almighty Jove ! 

Thes. What, then, dost thou resolve ? 
Say, wilt thou to the palace ? 

(Ed. Would to Heaven 
I might attend thee, but the spot is here— 

Thes. Destined for what ? I will in nought oppose 
thee. 

(Ed. Here shall I triumph o'er the foes who 
wronged me, 

VOL. i. L 



146 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Thes. Great recompense thou nam'st for thine 
abode 
In these our realms. 

(Ed. If to thy purpose true, 
Thou dost remain unchanged, till all be o'er. 

Thes. Distrust me not, I never will betray thee. 

(Ed. I would not bind thee, like the base, by oath. 

Thes. I count no oath more binding- than a pro- 
mise. 

(Ed. How wilt thou act ? 

Thes. What terror thus alarms thee ? 

(Ed. Men will approach — 

Thes. That charge belongs to these. 

(Ed. Beware, lest if thou leave me — 

Thes. Tell me not 
What is my duty. 

(Ed. He who fears must tell thee. 

Thes. Fear is a stranger to my breast. 

(Ed. And yet 
Thou little know'st what threats — 

Thes. One thing I know ; 
No mortal hand shall force thee from this spot, 
In my despite. The impotence of Wrath 
Vents its wild rage in vain and vehement threats, 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 147 

Which, when cool Thought its sober sway resumes, 
Unheeded pass away. Thus, too, for these ; 
Though now they proudly menace, should they strive 
To drag thee hence by violence, such emprize 
Will prove a stormy ocean, where immerged, 
Their shattered bark will sink. Take courage then — 
If Phoebus hither was indeed thy guide, 
Without my feebler aid his arm can save thee ; 
And though ourselves be distant, yet our name 
Shall still avail from insult to protect thee. 



CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
STROPHE I. 

Well did Fate thy wanderings lead, 
Stranger, to this field of fame, 

Birth-place of the generous steed, 
Graced by white Colonus' name. 1 

Frequent in the dewy glade 

Here the nightingale is dwelling ; 



1 The sincerity of these encomiums on the beauties of 
Colonus will not be questioned, if we admit the common no- 
tion, that it was the birth-place of Sophocles. 

L 2 



148 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Through embowering ivy's shade, 

Here her plaintive notes are swelling ; 

Through yon grove, from footsteps pure, 
Where unnumbered fruits are blushing — 

From the summer sun secure, 

Screened from wintry whirlwinds rushing ; 

Where, with his fostering nymphs, amid the grove, 

The sportive Bacchus joys to revel or to rove. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Bathed in heaven's ambrosial dew, 

Here the fair narcissus flowers, 
Graced each morn with clusters new, 

Ancient crown of Mightiest Powers ; 
Here the golden crocus blows ; 

Here exhaustless fountains gushing, 
Where the cool Cephisus flows, 

Restless o'er the plains are rushing ; 
Ever as the crystal flood 

Winds in pure transparent lightness ; 
Fresher herbage decks the sod, 

Flowers spring forth in lovelier brightness ; 
Here dance the Muses ; and the Queen of Love 
Oft guides her golden car through this enchanting 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 149 



STROPHE II. 

What nor Asia's rich domain, 
Nor, by Pelops' ancient reign 
Famed afar, the Doric coast 
Through its thousand vales can boast, - 
Here, by mortal hands unsown, 
Here, spontaneous and alone, 
Mark the hallowed plant expand, 
Terror of each hostile band ! 
Here, with kindly fruit mature, 
Springs the azure olive pure ; 
Youth and hoary age combine 
To revere the plant divine ; 
1 Morian Jove, with guardian care, 
Watches ever wakeful there ; 
And Athena's eye of blue 
Guards her own loved olive too. 



2 The sacred olives in the Academia were called Mopiat ; 
hence Jupiter, who had an altar there, as protector of the 
place, had the name of Morian. —Potter. 



50 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 



ANTISTROPHE II. 

Let me still my country's fame, 
Still her matchless praise proclaim. 
Sing the wondrous gifts bestowed 
By her potent Patron-God, 
Steeds in fleetness ne'er outvied., 
And the gallant navy's pride. 
Son of Saturn, King, whose sway 
Ocean's restless waves obey, 
Thou to this transcendant praise 
Didst thy favoured Athens raise ; 
Taught by thee the courser's flame 
By the golden curb to tame — 
While the light oar, framed by thee, 
Speeds the swift bark o'er the sea, 
Bounding through the foaming main 
Fleeter than the 3 Nereid train. 

Ant. O most renowned land ! 'tis now the time 
To prove by action thy transcendant praise. 

(Ed. What wakes new terrors in thy breast, my 
daughter ? 



3 Literally, follower of the hundred-footed daughters of 
Nereus. 



CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 151 

Ant. Creon approaches, not unguarded, hither- 
(Ed. Most honoured strangers, in your aid alone 
My anxious eye must seek the goal of safety. 

Ch. Be calm; I will not fail thee, though mine arm 
Be weak and withered by a weight of years, 
Age hath not palsied yet the might of Athens. 
Enter Creon. 



CREON, CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 

Cr. Ye citizens, and children of the soil, 
Your looks, I see, betray at mine approach 
The sudden impulse of awakening fears. 
Your fears are causeless: — be vain threats forborne. 
I come not here to compass aught by force, 
For I am old ; and this most potent state 
Transcends, I know, the mightiest in our Greece ; 
But, bent with age, I come but to restore 
This hapless outcast to his native land ; 
A charge no private voice, but the whole state 
Imposed on me, by kindred blood constrained 
To feel most deeply for a kinsman's woe. 
List to mine errand then, unhappy King, 
And to thy home return ; the state recalls thee ; 
I beyond all by closest ties impelled, 
Who were indeed the basest of mankind, 



152 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Did not thy miseries wring my inmost soul, — ■ 
Viewing thee thus, a friendless, homeless exile, 
A wanderer and a fugitive on earth, 
Led by one feeble guide, and that thy daughter. 
Ah ! never thought I to behold her thus, 
Sunk in the depth of wretchedness and shame, 
On thee attendant, and in thy behalf 
A scant relief imploring ; — in the flower 
Of ripened youth from nuptial honours torn, 
To scorn and ruffian outrage still exposed. 
What dark and deep reproach, unhappy me ! 
On mine own head, and thine, and all our race, 
Have I not charged? Yet, since in vain we strive 
To shroud that shame, which all must know too well, 
By thy paternal Gods, O (Edipus, 
Yield to my warm persuasions ; hide thy woes 
In thine own city and ancestral halls. 
Bid to this generous state a kind farewell, 
She well deserves it ; but the land that bore 
And gave thee nurture claims superior love. 

(Ed. O thou in all audacious, basely skilled 
E'en from the words of truth to frame deceit, 
Why seek to lure me to those scenes again, 
Where, if beguiled, severest woes await me ? 
When, sunk and struggling with domestic ills, 
My only solace was the hope of exile, 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 153 

Thou would st not then that mournful boon bestow ; 
But when the frenzy of my soul was calmed, 
And I had joyed to linger out my days 
In my once happier home ; then didst thou drive, 
And spurn me forth to exile. Where was then 
The kindred tie so much regarded now ? 
Now, when thou seest this hospitable state 
And her kind sons concede a welcome refuge, 
Wouldst thou delude me hence, veiling thy fraud 
In smooth dissembling words. Thy proffered love, 
What joy imparts it to the heart that loathes thee ? 
If from thy prayer, in utmost need preferred, 
Unheeding one should turn, nor will to aid, 
But, when thy soul were sated with its wish, 
Should then obtrude his slow and worthless help, 
Say — would such empty succour aught delight thee? 
Such grace thou bring'st to me ; specious in word, 
False in itself, and fruitless. I will speak, 
That to these strangers I may prove thee villain. 
Thou com'st to lure me — not to mine own home, 
But to your confines, there to pine, that Thebes 
May shun th' impending vengeance of this land. 
It shall not be ; such vengeance still awaits thee. 
There shall my spirit dwell, a blighting curse 
To your devoted state. And for my sons, 



154 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Of all the rich domain their father swayed, 
Be the scant tomb their sole inheritance. 
Is not my presage of the doom of Thebes 
More sure than thine ;— yea, 'tis e'en trebly sure,, 
As drawn from truer prophets, Phoebus 'self, 
And his dread sire, the all-controlling Jove ! 
And hither hast thou come with specious words 
And most delusive ; but, for thy smooth tongue, 
Defeat and shame, not safety, shalt thou reap. 
Since, then, thy toils are spread in vain, away ! 
Leave us to sojourn here ; sunk as we are, 
Here to reside, we were not wholly wretched. 

Cr. And dost thou think severer woes impend 
O'er me from these wild ravings, or thyself ? 

(Ed. Much will it glad me, if in vain thou seek'st 
Me to persuade, or these my friendly guards. 

Cr. Thou wretch, not time itself can teach thee 
wisdom ; 
But frenzy makes thee hateful e'en in age. 

(Ed. Practised art thou in eloquence ; but one 
Who smoothly talks on right and wrong alike — 
Can such a man be virtuous ? 

Cr. To speak much, 
And speak in fitting season, differ widely. 

(Ed. How briefly and how wisely dost thou speak. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 155 

Cr. Not so to one whose soul is warped like thine. 

(Ed. I charge thee, hence ! nor thus observe 
where most 
Befits me sojourn. 

Cr. I attest, not thee, 
But these most friendly strangers, in what terms 
Thou dost reply. If I should force thee ! — 

(Ed. Ha! — 
And who dare force me, if my guards assent not ? 

Cr. Nay, though I use no force, thou shalt 
repent. 

(Ed. From what base deed arise these menaces ? 

Cr. One of thy daughters is my captive now, 
And this shall be ere long. 

(Ed. Unhappy me ! 

Cr. Ah ! thou shalt soon have cause for heavier 
sorrow. 

(Ed. Hast thou my child ? 

Cr. Aye ; and design ere long 
To force the other from thee. 

(Ed. Oh ! my friends, 
What will ye do ? Will ye, too, thus betray me ? 
Will ye not spurn the villain from your land ? 

Ch. Stand off, bold stranger ; — justice disallows 
The deeds thou late hast done, and still art doing. 



156 CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 

Cr. This is the moment ; do your office, slaves ; 
Quick, — force her hence, if she refuse to follow. 

Ant. Ah ! whither shall I fly ? where shall I look, 
To earth or heaven for rescue ? 

Ch. Wretch! what dost thou ? 

Cr. The man I shall not touch, the maid is mine. 

(Ed. O Princes of the land ! 

Ch. Presumptuous stranger, 
Thy deeds are most unjust. 

Cr. Most just. 

Ch. And say, 
Where is their justice 1 

Cr. I but seize mine own. 

Ant. O Athens ! Athens ! 

Ch. Stranger, how is this ? 
Wilt thou not loose her ? quickly shalt thou feel 
The vengeance of mine hand. 

Cr. Off with thine hand ! 

Ch. Never from thee, if such thy venturous aim. 

(Ed. If thou wrong me, thou dost incense the 
state. 

Ch. Have I not told thee thus ? 

Cr. Straight from thy clasp ; 
Release the virgin. 

Ch. Dictate not to those 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 157 

Who do not own thy power. 

Cr. Again I bid thee loose her. 

Ch. And again 
I bid thee swift depart. Haste, hither haste, 
O citizens ! the state is foully wronged ; 
My country's rights are outraged ; haste to help me ! 

Ant. Oh strangers, strangers, I am torn away. 

(Ed. My child, my child, where art thou ? 

Ant. Hurried hence 
By lawless violence. 

(Ed. Stretch forth thy hand, 
My hapless child ! 

Ant. Alas ! I have no power. 

Cr. Will ye not drag her hence ? 

(Ed. Unhappy me ! 

Cr. Henceforth, unaided by these props at least, 
Shalt thou roam forth, since thus thy stubborn mood 
Rejects thy country, and thy friends, and me, 
Commissioned forth, although a King, to bring thee. 
Time will, I know, convince thee, that such deeds 
Will ne'er conduce to work thy lasting good, 
Spurning thy friends, and nurturing that wild rage 
Which plunged, and still doth plunge thee, in 
despair. 

Ch. Hold, stranger, hold ! 



158 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Cr. I warn thee, touch me not. 

Ch. I will not loose thee, while of these bereft. 

Or. Then on thy state wilt thou entail revenge 
For heavier wrongs • I seize not these alone. 

Ch. What is thy purpose now ? 

Cr. To drag him hence. 

Ch. High words are these. 

Cr. Like deeds will soon ensue, 
Unless the monarch of this land prevent me. 

(Ed. Oh ! shameless boaster ! wilt thou seize 
me too ? 

Cr. Silence ! I charge thee. 

(Ed. Did these Awful Powers 
Enjoin me silence from the curse that now 
Is trembling on my lips, I would not then 
Forbear to curse thee, ruffian ! who hast rent 
From the blind wanderer his last dearest guide. 
For this, on thee and thy devoted race 
May yon bright Sun, All-seeing God, repay 
A dark and dreary age, fraught to the last 
With miseries keen as mine. 

Cr. Behold ye this, 
Ye natives of the land ? 

(Ed. Thee they behold 
And me ; they know what wrongs I have endured, 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 159 

While but in words I vent my powerless vengeance. 

Cr. I will not curb my anger ; but alone, 
Though age-enfeebled, straight will drag thee hence. 

(Ed. Unhappy me ! 

Ch. What insolence is thine, 
If thou but deem'st to dare a deed like this ! 

Cr. I deem. 

Ch. Then Athens is no more a city. 

Cr. In a just cause the weak subdue the mighty. 

(Ed. Hear you his vaunts ? 

Ch. They shall not end in action. 

Cr. This Jove may know, thou canst not. 

Ch. Is not this 
Atrocious wrong ? 

Cr. 'Tis wrong ; yet thou must bear it. 

Ch. Ho citizens ! — ho rulers of the land ! 
Advance with speed, — advance ; far, far e'en now 
They pass the bounds of right. 

Enter Theseus. 



160 1EDIPUS AT COLON OS. 



THESEUS, (EDIPUS, CREON, CHORUS. 

Thes. ; Why this clamour? what the outrage? 
Urged by what unwonted dread, 
Call ye thus your King adoring where the votive 

steer hath bled 
To the Ocean-King whose altar decks Colonus ? 

Quickly say, 
Wherefore from the shrine ye urge me with un- 
welcome speed away ? 
(Ed. O noble friend, for well thy voice I know, 
Foul wrongs from this base ruffian have I borne. 
Thes. What are those wrongs, — how hath he 
injured thee ? 



3 Though the abrupt transition in the metre may sound 
harshly to the reader, it would have been inconsistent with 
the main principle of the present translation to have rendered 
these four lines in heroic measure, as they are trochaics in 
the original. If, however, according to Pope's celebrated 
canon, 

The sound must seem an echo to the sense, 
it must be acknowledged, that no metre is better adapted to 
convey the idea of hurried indignation and impetuous surprise. 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 161 

(Ed. This Creon, whom thou seest, hath forced away 
My last and only comfort, my loved daughters. 

Thes. What dost thou say ? 

(Ed. My sufferings thou hast heard. 

Thes. Let one of those who in our presence wait 
Speed instant to the altars, and proclaim 
This mandate to our people, horse and foot, 
To quit the sacred rites, and with all haste 
Secure the passage where the double ways 
Converge in one, ere the lost virgins pass, 
And I, by lawless force discomfited, 
Be held in scorn by my much-injured guest. 
Away, as I have charged thee ! For this wretch, 
Did I but feel the wrath his guilt deserves, 
He should not 'scape uninjured from my vengeance. 
Now, by the very laws himself imposed, 
By those same laws, impartial will I judge him. 
Hence never shalt thou part, till thou restore 
The ravished virgins to our presence here ; 
For thou hast done a deed, that shames not me 
Alone, but thine own lineage, and thy country ; 
Since on a state, by law and justice swayed, 
And of its faith observant — on this state, 
Thou hast intruded with unlicensed might, 
To work thy will, and bear away the spoil, 

vol. i. m 



162 CEDTPUS AT COLONOS. 

Deeming our land, perchance, of manly hearts 
Devoid, — some haughty despot's crouching slave, 
Or me an abject and degenerate coward. 
Thebes never taught thee this degrading lesson, 
She is not wont to form and nurture baseness ; 
Nor will she praise nor vindicate the deed, 
When she shall learn, that on the sacred rights 
Of me and of my Gods thou hast transgressed, 
Forcing the wretched suppliant from our altars. 
I had not thus intruded on thy state, 
(Though rigid justice sanctified the deed,) 
And lured, or led, a wretched captive thence, 
Without the Kings assent, whoe'er he were, 
Knowing too well what to the sheltering state 
Becomes a stranger in a foreign land. 
Thy deeds have shamed thy country, of such shame 
Most undeserving, and protracted years 
Have left thee aged and bereft of wisdom. 
But now our former menace we repeat ; 
Let the lost virgins be at once restored, 
Or in this land will I detain thee, bound 
A slave reluctant — till thou set them free. 
Our will in this accords but with our words. 

Ch. Seest thou thy peril, stranger? first I thought 
thee 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 163 

Generous and noble, as became thy race ; 
Now in thy guilt thou art at once convicted. 

Cr. It was not, Theseus, that I deemed thy state 
Devoid of martial might or counsel sage, 
As thou hast said, that I have done this deed ; 
But from my firm conviction, of thy realms 
That none would will to harbour and retain 
In my despite a kinsman ; — for I deemed 
Ye could not cherish a polluted wretch 
Stained with a father's blood, from whose dark couch 
Sprung an incestuous progeny. And I knew 
The long-revered tribunal of your land, 
Throned on the Mount of Mars, would never deign 
To grant asylum in her sheltering walls 
To such degraded outcasts. Urged by this, 
I came confiding to arrest my prey ; 
Nor had I gone thus far, save that on me 
And on my race a bitter curse he poured, 
Whence, having suffered wrong, I thus repaid it. 
Resentment knows no soothing balm of age, 
Calmed but in death, it only fails to rouse 
The long departed. Act, then, as thou wilt ; 
I am alone before thee, with no plea 
But justice ;— that in weakness nought avails me — 

m 2 



164 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Yet know, whate'er thy deeds, thus weak with age, 
With equal deeds will I essay to quite thee. 

(Ed. Unblushing villain ! dost thou think to pour 
Contempt on mine old age or on thy own 
With these upbraidings, while thou tell'st a tale 
Of murder, incest, misery, and despair, 
Which I, oh how unwillingly ! endured. 
Such was the will of Heaven, against my house 
Incensed, perchance, for unrepented crimes. 
Thou canst not prove, that by a wilful deed 
I merited such evil, or involved 
Myself, my race, in guilt so dark as this. 
Say, if thou canst, since by the voice divine 
I was foredoomed a father's murderer, — 
Say, how can Justice brand me with such deed, 
Whose doom was presaged ere my life began ? 
If — born to woe — as I, alas ! was born, 
In chance encounter met, I slew my sire, 
Unknowing what I did, or whom I slew, 
Canst thou revile me for unconscious crimes ? 
And, oh thou wretch ! doth it not shame even thee 
Thus to constrain me but to speak of her, 
My wife, my mother, and thy sister too. 
Now I will speak ; — no longer will I veil 



(ED1PUS AT COLONOS. 165 

The tale in silence, since thy shameless tongue 

Hath forced it from me. Yes — she gave me birth ; 

I here avow it — Oh accursed doom ! 

Unthinking of her fate as I of mine ; — 

She gave me birth ; then to her son she bore 

Fresh sons, and to herself eternal shame. 

This too I know, though thou with willing mind 

On me and her hast heaped this keen reproach, 

Unwillingly I wedded her, and tell 

This tale with like reluctance. Not for this 

Shall infamy for ever brand my name ; 

Nor for my father's blood, though at this deed 

Are aimed the keenest arrows of thy wrath. 

And answer truly what I now demand ; — 

Should one rush forward to attempt thy life, 

Thou paragon of justice, wouldst thou ask 

If he who sought to slay thee were thy father ? 

Or take an instant vengeance ? Sooth I deem, 

If thou lov'st life, thou wouldst repel the assault 

With equal force, and think of justice after ! 

To these unconscious crimes the will of Heaven 

Constrained my path ; and couldst thou from the 

grave 
Evoke the spirit of my murdered sire, 
This plea he would not question. But for thee, 



166 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Oh lost to justice ! thou hast dared to speak 
While Honour warned to silence ; and to charge 
Me in this presence with calumnious blame ; 
Yet hast thou deemed it worthy on this state, 
Renowned Athens, and her generous King, 
To fawn with hollow and unmeaning praise ; 
How is it thou hast passed her worthiest fame, 
Her proud pre-eminence, of all our states 
In virtue first and reverence to the Gods ? 
Yet from this noble land hast thou essayed 
Meanly to steal a wretched suppliant, 
And bear to bondage my unhappy daughters. 
Wherefore I now implore the potent arm 
Of these dread Powers, and bend in earnest prayer 
For their resistless aid, that thou mayst learn 
What manly hearts defend this generous city. 

Ch. The stranger is most worthy, good my Lord, 
And though his woes are countless, they but lend 
A stronger title to thy friendly succour. 

Thes. Enough of words;— the lawless ruffians 
speed, 
While we, the injured, stand inactive here. 

Cr. What task to my weak age would st thou 
prescribe ? 

Thes. That thou precede, and guide me to the spot, 



CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 167 

That if the captive maidens near this grove 

Are yet detained, thou mayst at once reveal them, 

Though, if thy band be fled, this toil avails not. 

Others are now abroad, whose sure pursuit 

They never shall escape — to thank the Gods 

For villany successful. Go before ; 

The doom for others destined now is thine, 

And Fate, at length, in thine own toils hath snared 

thee ; — 
Brief are the triumphs gained by guilty fraud. 
Nor rest on other aid. I know full well, • 
By thine insulting vaunts, thou didst not come 
Unarmed or unattended to this outrage ; 
Some power upholds thee in this bold emprize. 
But this demands our care, nor must we leave 
Our state thus baffled by a single villain. 
This dost thou comprehend, or is it said 
In vain, as when this insult first was planned ? 
Cr. Nay, spare thy threats, I cannot beard thee 
here ; 
At home we too shall know what best beseems us. 
Thes. Away, and, threaten as thou wilt. Do thou, 
O (Edipus, undaunted here remain ; 
And, save in death, I will not cease mine aid 
Till thou again embrace thy rescued daughters. 



168 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. Most honoured Theseus, for thy generous soul, 
And ready succour to our helpless age, 
May the Gods crown thee with their choicest 
blessings. 

[Exeunt Theseus and Creon. 



cedipus, chorus. 

strophe i. 
+ Oh ! were I present 'mid the fray 
Where warriors meet in stern array, 

And clanging arms resound, 
Or by the hallowed Pythian shrine, 
Or where unnumbered torches shine 

The gleaming shores around ; 



4 The chorus, concluding that an engagement must ensue, 
wish themselves with their brave countrymen, when they 
should overtake the forces of Creon, whether it were in the 
plains of Marathon, characterised by the temple there dedi- 
cated to the Pythian Apollo, or on the shores of Eleusis, or 
near Leucogeos, the domain of the tribe of (Ea. The latter 
part of the strophe is an allusion to the silence observed in 
the Eleusiniau mysteries ; the priests were called Eumolpidae, 
from Eumolpus, the first hierophant. — Potter. 



OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 169 

Where Awful Powers in mystery 

Veil the dread rites, whose golden key 

Locks deep in silent awe divine 

Their priests, Eumolpus' honoured line. 

Thither were borne the virgin pair, 
There led the King his martial band, 
There, sword to sword, and hand to hand, 

The strife they soon shall dare. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Or westward do the warriors speed, 
Where high o'er QEa's fertile mead 

The white rock rears its brow ? 
On fiery steed or rolling car, 
Say, flock they to the deepening war ? 

For Mars is wakening now 
His legions ardent for the fight, 
And Athens pours her martial might. 
From every rein the lightnings glance, 
As high on glittering steeds advance 

The youthful bands, who proudly own 
Athena, thy superior sway, 
Or, grateful, votive homage pay 

To Rhea's honoured son. 



170 GEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

STROPHE II. 

Say, do they fight, or linger still ? 

Glad hopes my bounding breast inflame 
The virgins, wronged by causeless ill, 
Wronged by a haughty kinsman's will, 

Soon shall my King reclaim. 
Jove, Jove, to-day will aid the right, 
And I forebode a prosperous fight. 
Oh ! could I seize the wild dove's wing, 
And to yon clouds my pinions fling, 
That my glad eye might beam to see 
The combat and the victory ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Thou of the all-pervading eye ! 

In Heaven by subject Gods adored, 
Jove ! from thy radiant throne on high 
Send might, and joy, and victory, 

To grace my country's Lord ! 
Daughter of Jove, Athena ! hear ; 
Thou, Phoebus, lift thy fatal spear, 
With thy chaste sister, skilled to slay 
With certain aim the forest-prey, 
Oh come, with prompt and potent hand, 
To aid my people and my land. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 171 

Thou wilt not, wandering stranger, in this hope 
Count me a faithless prophet ; for I see 
Thy rescued daughters swift advancing here. 

(Ed. Where, where, what say'st ? — what said'st 
thou? 

Enter Antigone and Ismene. 



THESEUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, OZDIPUS, CHORUS. 

Ant. Oh, my father ! 
My dearest father ! would some pitying God 
Grant thee to gaze on this most generous monarch, 
Who hath restored us to thy welcome arms. 

(Ed. My child — and are ye near me ? 

Ant. Yea ; the hands 
Of Theseus and his gallant band have saved us. 

(Ed. Come, O my children, to a father's arms, 
Who never, never, thought again to feel 
Your loved embrace. 

Ant. That transport, then, be thine ; — 
With equal joy we share it. 

(Ed. Where, indeed, 
Where are ye ? — 

Ant. Here, together we approach thee. 



172 CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. My dearest blossoms ! 

Ant. To a father's breast 
His offspring all are dear. 

(Ed. Ye loved supports 
Of my weak age ! 

Ant. Sad guardians of the wretched ! 

(Ed. I clasp my best-beloved, nor can die 
Hapless in all, while ye are left to bless me. 
Press, then, my daughters, to a father's side ; 
Grow to the parent-breast ; and close, at length, 
My dark and dreary pilgrimage in peace. 
But first the manner of your rescue tell ; 
Brief be the tale, as fits your modest years. 

Ant. Here stands our great preserver. Ask of him, 
So will my tale be brief, and quickly told. 

(Ed. O marvel not, dear stranger ! though I dwell 
With prolix transport on my children, saved 
Beyond my hope ; — well do I know from thee 
Springs this delight, the boon is only thine, 
Thou hast preserved them ; yea, and thou alone. 
For this, on thee and on thy state may Heaven 
Pour down such blessings as my warm heart prays, 
Since in your state alone of all mankind 
Have I discerned unsullied piety, 
Justice unwarped, and sacred truth unstained. 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 173 

Oh could my grateful thanks attest thy worth ! 
For all my blessings flow from thee alone. 
Stretch forth, oh noble King, the hand that saved us, 
That I may clasp it, and confess thy grace 
With the warm kiss of ardent gratitude. 
Yet what have I implored ! should a lost wretch 
Dare but to touch the unpolluted form 
Of virtue pure as thine ? It may not be; 
Didst thou assent, I would not thus defile thee. 
They, they alone, whom bitterest woes have wrung, 
Aright can pity wretchedness like mine. 
Farewell, my Lord ; yet, while I linger here, 
Still let thy friendship, still thine aid be mine. 

Thes. I marvel not, that in the first warm thrill 
Of heartfelt transport for thy rescued daughters, 
Thou didst not promptly speak the thanks our aid 
Might seem to merit, nor doth such delay 
In aught displease us. Not from empty words 
Would we seek honour, but from manly deeds. 
I prove it thus : in all our promise pledged, 
That pledge hath been redeemed ; I here restore 
Thy daughters, living, from his threats unharmed. 
And why should I recount, in vaunting words, 
How conquest crowned our arms, when thou mayst 
learn 



174 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

From these thy daughters ? But direct thy thoughts 
To what befel me as I hasted hither ; 
Brief to recount, yet worthy of surprise. 
Events, though trivial, prudence duly weighs. 

(Ed. What is it, son of iEgeus ? for thy words 
Are dark to me, nor can I guess their import. 

Thes. They say a man, no citizen of Thebes, 
Yet to thy blood allied, in suppliant guise 
At Neptune's altar sits, where I performed 
The sacred rites, when summoned to the rescue. 

(Ed. Whence doth he come ? what boon implore 
of me? 

Thes. I know but this ; they tell me — at thy hand 
He seeks brief audience, and no greater grace. 

(Ed. Why this? nought trivial doth that seat 
portend ! 

Thes. They say he asks but to confer with thee 
A few brief moments, and return in safety. 

(Ed. Who can he be, thus suppliant at the altar? 

Thes. Bethink thee, is there none of kindred blood 
At Argos, who may crave a boon like this ? 

(Ed. Cease, cease, most honoured Monarch. 

Thes. What means this ? 

(Ed. Entreat me not. 

Thes. And wherefore not entreat thee ? 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS 17^ 

(Ed. Too well I know the stranger-suppliant now. 

Thes. And who is he ? and why should I rebuke 
him? 

(Ed. My son, my foul abhorrence : but to hear 
His voice, O King ! would deeply gall my breast. 

Thes. Yet wherefore? Though thou hear his 
prayer, thy will 
Is free to spurn it ; can it harm thee aught 
To grant him audience ? 

(Ed. O, my Lord, his voice 
Is harsh and hateful to a father's ear ! 
Then urge me not to grant request like this. 

Thes. But first beware; doth not his suppliant seat, 
And the high sanction of the Gods constrain thee ? 

Ant. O yield to me, my father, though by years 
Unschooled in wisdom I presume to speak ; 
And to thy suppliant grant the grace he asks. 
Revere the Power in whose high name he prays thee, 
Relent to us, and bear my brother's presence ; 
His words, though uncongenial, are not fraught 
With power to force thee from thy fixed design. 
What ill can rise from listening but to words 
By which the noblest counsels are declared ? 
Art thou not still his father? For this cause, 



176 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Though most unnatural were his deeds to thee, 
It is not meet that thou shouldst thus repay 
Evil for evil. Yield, then, to his prayer ; 
Others have felt the curse of thankless children, 
And burnt with equal anger, — till, appeased 
By mild remonstrances of mutual friends, 
Once more the father in their breasts revived. 
Ah ! dwell not now on those unnumbered woes, 
Which thou hast borne for deeds unconscious wrought 
Against thy parents, though I know too well, 
If that on these thou look, 'twill prove at once 
What pregnant sufferings spring from rage indulged ; 
My truth, alas ! is too severely proved 
By those dark eye-balls, — dark in endless night. 
Relent, then, to our prayers. It ill beseems 
That they should ask so oft who ask for justice, 
Or that thine heart, itself by kindness soothed, 
Knows not by kindness to requite the grace. 

(Ed. Thou hast prevailed, my daughter, though 
assent, 
While pleasing, is reluctant — take thy wish. 
This I forewarn thee, stranger ; if he come, 
Let not his ruffian-hand attempt my life. 

Thes. Enough — my honour needs no second pledge. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 177 

Old man, I scorn to boast ; but while the Gods 
Still grant me life and safety, thou art safe. 

Exit Theseus. 



CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 

Chorus, 

STROPHE L 

Estranged from wisdom's rule appears 
The man, whose restless mind 

Aspires to life beyond the years -^ 
To mortal date assigned. 

Years linger on ; but in their train 
rLead cares more restless, keener pain ; 

And when beyond Hope's utmost bound 
Thy wish is won, ah what can cheer 
The joyless breast, when hovering near 

Relentless Death has frowned ? 

No festive dance, or nuptial wreath, 
Or magic of the melting lyre, 
Can wake in age the stifled fire. 

Or charm the sleep of death, 

VOL. I. S" 



178 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 



ANTISTROPHE I. 

O better were it not to be ; — 

Or when the infant-eye 
Opens on light and misery, 

To pass in that first sigh ^ 
Whence first we came. Youth onward speeds, 
And in his train of folly leads 
Delusive pleasures, light and vain — 

What restless toils are absent there, 

What woes, swift darkening to despair ? — 
In that disastrous train 

Are Strife, Sedition, Envy, Wrath ; — 
While Age, morose with countless woes, 
Dark, cheerless, friendless, waits to close 

The drear and downward path. 

EPODE. 

Nor mine alone these ills to bear, 

Thou, too, the mournful lot must share. 

As the wild billows fiercely roar 

Round the white crags and northern shore ; 

So fierce on thy devoted brow 

The waves of woe are beating now, 

And sorrows round thee pour ; — 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 179 

Some from the sinking orb of day, 
Some where he darts his orient ray, 
Some from the sultry noontide beam, 
And some from Midnight's starry gleam. 

Ant. Hither, it seems, the stranger comes, my 
father, 
All unattended, and dissolved in tears. 

(Ed. Who is he? 

Ant. Tis the same we deemed before, 
And Polynices stands before thee now. 

Enter Polynices. 



POLYNICES, CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, 
CHORUS. 

Pol. Ah me ! what shall I do ? Shall my first tears 
Gush forth for mine own sorrows, or for those 
Which now I see my aged sire endure ? 
Whom, a sad exile in a stranger-land, 
By you alone, my sisters, have I found 
Attended, and arrayed in this mean garb, 
Whose squalid vestments, worn by wandering bare, 

n 2 



180 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Defile his aged form, while o'er his brow, 

Reft of its visual orbs, the matted locks 

Stream to each passing gale ; with such vile garb, 

Too well, it seems, his scanty food accords. 

Late, late I learn the measure of thy woes, 

And, though of men most worthless, I attest 

The Gods, I come but to relieve thy need. 

Ah ! seek not this from others. By the throne 

Of mighty Jove, associate of his sway, 

Sits gentle Mercy, judge of human deeds ; 

Let her be present to thy soul, my father. 

The guilt we have incurred may be redeemed, 

Though keen remorse can nought avail us now. 

Why art thou silent? — 

Speak to me, O my father, one kind word ; 

Repulse me not. Wilt thou not deign reply, 

But sternly thrust me forth, dishonoured, shamed 

With mute contempt, unknowing whence thy wrath 

Burns thus relentless ? Aid me, O my sisters, 

Ye are his children too ; O seek to move 

Th' obdurate sternness of my angry father, 

Nor let him thus, without one answering word, 

Dismiss in scorn the suppliant of the God. 

Ant. Speak, my unhappy brother, speak thy 
wish ; 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 181 

Oft words are armed with mild persuasive power ; 
And if they rouse resentment, or awake 
The dormant pity, oft compel reply 
From the closed lips of deep and angry silence. 
Pol. Then will I speak ; for thou hast counselled 
well. 
Imploring first the God (from whose dread shrine 
The King despatched me hither, granting first 
A free communion and a safe return,) 
To be the great auxiliar of my prayer. 
Such grace, kind strangers, I implore from you, 
From these, my sisters, from my sire himself. 
Now, O my father, will I tell the cause 
Why thus I sought thee. From my native land 
I have been driven to exile ; for no crime, 
Save that I claimed to mount thy royal throne, 
By birth my fair and free inheritance. 
For this Eteocles, thy younger son, 
Forced me from Thebes, not by superior plea 
Of solid reasoning, or by nobler deeds 
Of conquering arms triumphant, but the state 
By fraudful arts persuading. The fell cause 
Of all our feud was thine avenging curse ; 
This, too, prophetic oracles confirm. 
Then to the Doric Argos I repaired, 



182 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Espoused Adrastus' daughter, and received, 
As friends and comrades in my righteous cause, 
The best and bravest of the Apian chiefs. 
With these allied, a seven-fold troop I lead 
To hostile Thebes, in this good cause prepared 
To die, or hurl th' usurper from his throne. 
Enough of this. Then wherefore came I hither ? 
To breathe, my father, fervent prayers to thee, 
Both for myself and my confederate friends, 
Who in seven bands, by seven bold chieftains led 7 
Are now encircling all the Theban plain. 
Mighty to wield the spear, and skilled to trace 
The flight of birds, Amphiaraus is there ; 
iEtolian Tydeus next, great (Eneus 1 son ; 
Eteoclus the Argive leads the third ; 
The fourth Hippomedon, sent to the fight 
By Tal'aus his sire ; then Capaneus, 
Who vaunts ere long that his victorious arm 
Shall raze to earth the haughty Theban towers ; 
Parthenopeeus of Arcadian birth 
Springs to the contest, from his mother's fame 
His name deriving, proved the noble son 
Of Atalanta, who so long maintained 
Her virgin-beauty, matchless in the chase ; 
And I, thy son, — or, if not thine, the son 



(EDI PUS AT COLON OS. 183 

Of angry Fortune, yet who bear thy name, — 
Conduct to Thebes the fearless Argive band. 
Now, by thy daughters, by thy life, my father, 
We all accord in one assenting prayer ; 
Heap not on me the burthen of thy wrath, 
Seeking due vengeance on a brother's head, 
Who drove me forth, and robbed me of a throne. 
If faith be due to Heaven's prophetic voice, 
Whom thou shalt succour, them must victory grace. 
Now by thy native fountains, by the Gods 
Who guard the rights of kindred, I implore thee 
Yield to my prayer, remit thy rooted wrath ; 
I, too, am poor and exiled, e'en as thou. 
Consigned to equal miseries, both must bow 
To a strange master in a stranger-land, 
While he, exultant in his royal halls, 
Derides our common doom of bitterness ; 
Whom, so thou aid my purpose, with brief toil 
Soon- will I hurl degraded from his throne. 
Then to thy regal state will I restore thee, 
Restore myself, and drive the wretch to exile. 
This, if thou aid, is no unmeaning vaunt ; — 
Without thy help I hope not ev'n for safety. 

Ch. Now, for his sake, who sent the suppliant here, 
Deign, (Edipus, meet answer to his prayer, 



184 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Whate'er thou wilt, and let him part from hence. 
(Ed. Save that the honoured Monarch of these 
realms 
Hath sent him hither, and esteemed it just 
That we should deign reply, I tell ye, friends, 
He never should have heard my voice again. 
That grace accorded, let him hearken now 
Our firm response, and triumph as he may. 
Oh most abandoned ! when the very throne 
Was thine, which now in Thebes thy brother holds, 
Thou didst thyself expel thy wretched sire, 
Didst spurn me from my country, and consign me 
To this most abject penury, which now 
Excites thy tears ; but never did my woes 
Inflict one pang, till they became thine own. 
Those ills I may not weep, but must endure ; 
And ever, ever must remembrance wake 
Thy worse than parricide. Thou didst enfold me 
In all this web of misery ; by thy will 
Constrained, I wandered sadly forth to crave 
The slender pittance of my daily food. 
Save that the care of duteous daughters soothed me, 
Long since, for thee, should I have ceased to live ; 
But they have saved me, they sustain me still ; 
Unlike their weaker sex, with manly hearts 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 185 

They toil unwearied in a father's cause ; — 
Ye are not mine, but aliens from my blood. 
Wherefore with other eyes will Heaven look down 
On this emprize ere long, when these thy troops 
Are marched to Thebes. It shall not be thy lot 
To win the city ; — rather shall thy blood 
And thy base brother's stain her fatal plain. 
Such were the curses of my first despair ; 
Such now with keener hatred I invoke 
To wreak my vengeance, that ye late may learn 
The reverence due to parents ; nor, though blind, 
With causeless insult wound a powerless father. 
My gentle daughters never acted thus. 
For this, on thy proud throne and royal seat 
Shall sit th' avenging curse, if Justice, famed 
Of old, by Jove's august tribunal throned, 
Maintain the ancient laws unbroken still. 
Hence to thy doom, Accursed ! I disclaim 
A father's part in thee, thou scorn of men ; 
And with thee bear the curse I call to blast thee : 
That thou mayst ne'er thy rightful throne regain, 
And never to the Argive vales return ; 
But fall unpitied by a kindred hand, 
Requiting first thine exile by his death. 
Thus do I curse thee : and I here invoke 



186 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Dark Erebus, the hated Sire of Hell, 
To give thee dwelling in his deepest gloom ;— 
These venerable Powers, and mighty Mars, 
Whose anger cursed thee with this deadly feud. 
Depart with this mine answer. Hence, and tell 
Th' assembled Thebans and thy bold allies, 
Such is the meed which (Edipus repays 
To his abhorred and most unnatural offspring. 
Ch. I cannot greet thee for thy prosperous way, 

Polynices ! now return with speed. 

Pol. O most ill-omened journey ! fatal close ! 
Oh my devoted friends ! was it for this 
We left the Argive towers ? Unhappy me ! 

1 will not to my faithful friends impart 

These dire* predictions, nor renounce th' emprize, 

But rush in silence on my certain doom. 

Oh my beloved sisters ! by the Gods ! 

Since ye have heard my father's ruthless curse, 

Should that fell curse in all its fury fall, 

If ere ye visit your paternal Thebes, 

Ah ! spurn me not dishonoured ; but inter 

My sad remains with due funereal rites : 

So shall the praise ye have most justly earned 

For duteous labour in a father's cause 

Be crowned with added lustre, if ye pay 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 187 

The last kind office to a brother's corpse. 

Ant. O Polynices, I implore thee yield 
To mine impassioned prayer. 

Pol. Antigone, 
My best-beloved sister, speak thy will. 

Ant. O lead thy bold confederates back to Argos. 
Nor plunge thy country and thyself in ruin. 

Pol. It cannot be. If here I doubt or pause, 
My gallant friends renounce the cause for ever. 

Ant. My dearest brother ! wherefore wilt thou 
yield 
To unavailing fury ? Canst thou reap 
Renown or profit from thy country's ruin ? 

Pol. To fly were baseness, and I will not fly. 
Mine is the birth-right ; and I cannot brook 
The insults of my brother. 

Ant. Seest thou not 
His 3 boding stern ; too plain, alas ! he spake it, 
That death impends o'er both ? 

Pol. Such was his presage ; 
But never, never shall this feud be staunched. 

Ant. Ah ! woe is me ! — Yet say, will they who 
hear 



The malediction of CEdipus. 



188 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

These fateful omens, aiding still thy cause, 
Rush headlong on destruction ? 

Pol. None shall hear them. 
A prudent general fans enlivening hope, 
But wisely veils the omen of ill-fortune. 

Ant. Is this thy sad and stern resolve, my brother ? 

Pol. Detain me not. To this high enterprise, 
Though dark and hopeless from a father's curse, 
Be all my thoughts directed. But may Jove 
With favouring eye behold you, so ye grant 
My last request, and honour me in death ; 
In life ye cannot aid me. Now, my sister, 
Now let me go, and take a fond farewell, 
A last farewell ! we meet in life no more. 

Ant. Then am I lost indeed. 

Pol. Mourn not for me. 

Ant. My dearest brother, can I check these tears, 
If frantic thus thou rush on open death ? 

Pol. If fate so wills, I perish. 

Ant. Yet, — oh yield — 
Yield to a sister's prayer. 

Pol. Persuade me not 
To deeds of baseness. 

Ant. But if thou shalt perish, 
I am most wretched. 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 189 

Pol. By the hand of Heaven 
Our doom must be decided. But from you 
May Heaven, propitious to my prayer, avert 
Sadness or suffering. Ye are most unworthy 
To mourn the blighting influence of despair. 
Exit Polynices. 



(EDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 
STROPHE I. 

Ch. Redoubling sorrows to me now, 
This sightless stranger bears, 
Laden with heavier doom, 
If fate achieve no remedy. 
But never can I deem Heaven's high decree 
Is breathed in vain. 
Time, all-beholding Time, 
Looks on, and hastens still 
To fill the destined measure of his woes- 
Great Jove ! what sudden thunders peal 1 

(Ed. My daughters, O my daughters, is there nigh 
One who will speed to call the noble Theseus ? 

Ant. Why, dearest father, should the King be 
called ? 



190 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

(Ed. This winged thunder peals from lofty Jove 
To bear me to the grave. Send, send with speed. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Ch. Lo ! yet again the mighty peal, 
Rolled by the hand of Jove, 
Grows louder ; and mine hair 
With thrilling horror stands erect. 
My soul is troubled ; for the lightning blaze 
Again flames high. 
What end is thus foretold? — 
I tremble — Not in vain, 

Nor void of dark event, these thunders roll ; — 
O mighty thunders ! mightier Jove ! 

(Ed. This, O my daughters, is the hour fore- 
doomed 
To close mine ills; — there is no respite now. 

Ant. How know'st thou this ? whence is such 

presage drawn ? 
(Ed. I know it well ; but haste, once more I bid 
thee, 
Require thy Monarch's instant presence hither. 

STROPHE II. 

Ch. Hark! -hark! 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 191 

Again the ceaseless thunder rolls 

In unabated wrath. 

Be merciful, dread Power ! be merciful. 

If o'er my mother-land thy wrath impends, 

Avert the wrathful stroke from me, 

Though on this wretch, oppressed with woes, 

I gazed, — and, gazing, pitied his despair. 

Dread Jove, on thee I call. 

(Ed. Is not the monarch nigh ? Still will he find me, 
My children, living, nor of sense bereft ? 

Ant. What secret wouldst thou to his faith confide? 

(Ed. For all his goodness, I would now repay 
The proffered recompense I pledged before. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Ch. Haste — haste, 
Speed, speed thy pace, my son, my son, 
Though on the utmost shore, 
To the dread Monarch of the Main thy hand 
Present the votive victim, come, O come ! 
To thee, thy state, and martial friends, 
The grateful stranger would repay 
A guerdon meet for your kind courtesy. 
Come, my good Lord, O come. 

Enter Theseus. 



192 GSDIPUS AT COLONOS. 



THESEUS, CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 

Thes. Again this general shout and wild dismay? — 
I hear your voices, and the stranger's too. 
Did the red lightnings or tempestuous hail 
Burst o'er your heads? When Jove's indignant voice 
Is heard in thunder, such may well be dreaded. 

(Ed. Well art thou come, my Lord. Some fa- 
vouring God 
In happy moment sped thy footsteps hither. 

Thes. What new event hath fallen, O son of Laius? 

(Ed. The close of my sad pilgrimage draws on ; 
But let me first to thee and to thy land 
Perform my promise ; then I die with honour. 

Thes. What symbols presage thine impending fate? 

(Ed. The Gods themselves are heralds of my doom, 
In none of all the former signs proved faithless. 

Thes. How say'st thou, stranger, these are plainly 
shown? 

(Ed. The fierce and frequent thunders, the red flames 
Hurled by th' unconquered hand of lofty Jove ! 

Thes. Thy words demand my credence ; for I see 
They have proved false in nought. Declare thou then 
What duty now demands. 



OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. ]93 

(Ed. Great son of iEgeus, 
I will inform thee what awaits thy state, 
What lasting glories, never to decay. 
Now will I lead thee, by no friendly hand 
Sustained or guided, where my life must close ; 
But never, never breathe to mortal ear 
The place of that mysterious sepulchre ; — 
Then shall it guard thy land with firmer might 
Than myriad shields and mercenary spears, 
There too alone, secluded, shalt thou learn 
Unuttered mysteries, which I dare not breathe 
To these thy subjects, no, nor my loved daughters, 
Though dearest to my soul. Do thou maintain 
Inviolate silence till thine hour is nigh ; 
Then breathe them only to the noblest chief ; 
Bid him disclose them to the next alone ; 
Thus ever shall ye hold your royal seat 
Impregnable to Thebes. Unnumbered states, 
Though swayed by wise and righteous laws, decline 
To wrong and foul oppression. Yet the Gods 
Behold unerringly, though late, when man 
Turns from their hallowed awe to lawless pride ; 
Beware, O Theseus, lest such fall be thine. 
Yet why teach virtue to the heart that loves it ? 
Now the strong impulse of th' inspiring God 
vol. i, o 



194 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Leads to the spot ; then let us onward now, 

Nor shrink in awe-struck reverence. O my daughters ! 

Follow me thither ; I am now your guide, 

As ye so long have been your wretched father's. 

Advance — yet touch me not ; unaided all, 

That long and last asylum shall I find, 

Where this worn frame is fated to repose. 

This — this way pass ; for Hermes in that path 

Directs me, and the Queen of those dark realms. 

O light, dear light, long from mine eyes obscured, 

Thy last, last beam now warms this nerveless frame. 

Onward I pass to hide life's waning ray 

In death's chill darkness. Most illustrious King, 

Blessings on thee, thy state, thy faithful friends ; 

Oft in the hour of conquest and of fame 

Revere my memory, prosper by my doom. 

[Exeunt (Edipus, Theseus, Antigone, 
and Ismene. 

Chorus. 

STROPHE. 

If to thee, Eternal Queen, 
Empress of the worlds unseen ; 
Mighty Pluto, if to thee, 
HelPs terrific Deity, 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 195 

Lips of mortal mould may dare 
Breathe the solemn suppliant prayer, 
Grant the stranger swift release, 
Bid the mourner part in peace, 
Guide him where in silence deep 
All that once were mortal sleep. 
Since relentless Fate hath shed 
Sorrows o'er thy guiltless head, 
In thy pangs let mercy stay thee, 
In the grave let rest repay thee. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Powers of Night ! Infernal Maids ! 
Monster-guardian of the shades ! 
Who, as antique legends tell, 
Keep'st the brazen porch of Hell, v 
And with ceaseless yell dost rave 
Fearful from thy gloomy cave ; 
Thou, whose mighty bulk of yore 
Earth to sable Tartarus bore ; 
Veil thy terrors, quell thine anger 5 
Gently meet the passing stranger, 
Sinking now with welcome speed 
To the dwellings of the dead. 

o"2 



196 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Thou, the ward of Hell who keepest ! 
Thou, the guard who never sleepest ! 

Enter a Coloniate. 



COLONIATE, CHORUS. 

Col. Brief words, my countrymen, may tell the 
tale, 
That (Edipus is dead ; but how he died, 
With what most strange and solemn circumstance, 
Admits no brief recital, , 

Ch. Is he then, 
Th' unhappy ! now at rest ? 

Col. Yea. Know thou well 
The sorrows of his heart are hushed for ever. 

Ch. How — by celestial aid and calm release ? 

Col. Much wilt thou marvel, when this too thou 
hearest. 
Thou know'st, for thou wert present, how from 

hence 
He walked, supported by no friendly hand, 
But to us all a sure unfaltering guide. 



(EDIPUS AT COLON OS. 197 

Soon as he gained the rough and steep descent, 

"With brazen steps deep-rooted in the earth, 

He stood, where varying paths converge in one, 

Beside the caverned gulf, where yet remain 

The fixed memorials of that mutual faith 

Of old by Theseus and Pirithous pledged ; 

And standing midway there, betwixt that spot 

And the Thorician rock, the hollow thorn 

And sepulchre of stone — he sate ; and there 

His squalid weeds ungirding, to his side 

He called his daughters, charging them to bring 

A pure libation from the living stream, 

And holy lavers ; they to Ceres' hill, 

Clad with fresh-glistening verdure, haste with speed 

To do his bidding ; then with lavers cleanse, 

And in a decent robe their sire array, 

As ancient custom's funeral rites enjoin. 

These sadly-pleasing rites at length discharged, 

Nor aught unfinished of their sire's command, 

The Infernal Jove deep thundered from beneath. 

The timid virgins trembled as they heard, 

Then clasped their father's knees, dissolved in tears, 

And smote their breasts with wailings long and loud. 

He, when he heard that strange and sudden sound, 



198 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Pressed them in fond embrace ; and " O my 

children," 
He said, " to-day ye have no more a father ; 
The grave hath closed o'er all that once was mine ; 
And your long painful task is now fulfilled- — 
Painful I know, my daughters, though one thought 
Still soothes and sweetens these protracted toils ; 
For never, never in a father's breast 
Glowed fonder love than I have felt for you ; 
Of this bereft, on what remains of life 
Shall better fortune smile." With frequent sobs, 
Locked in each other's arms, they thus bewailed ; 
But when their piercing cries an instant ceased, 
And the first thrill was hushed, silence ensued, — 
A silence, oh how awful ! — From beneath, 
With deep mysterious voice, called one unseen, 
While our damp hair in stiffening horror stood. 
Again, and yet again, the God exclaimed, 
" Come, (Edipus, why pause we to depart? 
Come, (Edipus ; for thou hast tarried long." 
Soon as he heard the summons of the God, 
He called the royal Theseus to his side, 
And thus addressed him, " Dear and noble King ! 
Thy hand, th' unbroken pledge of spotless faith, 



(EDIPUS AT COLON OS. 199 

Give to my children ; ye, my daughters, too, 
Like pledge return ; and promise me, King, 
That thou wilt ne'er betray them*; but perform 
Whate'er thy soul, benevolent, may deem 
Congenial to their welfare." Our good Lord, 
Like a true King, the promise promptly gave, 
And stamped it with an oath. Accomplished this, 
Straight in his feeble arms did (Edipus 
Embrace his daughters, and thus bade farewell ; — 
" Ye, my loved children, yield with generous hearts 
To stern necessity, and hence retire. 
Seek not to see what mortal may not gaze on, 
Or hear what never mortal sense may hear. 
Away with speed ; for to the King alone 
To rest, and mark the dread event, is given." 
We heard in wonder, and departed all ; 
And with the sorrowing virgins from the spot 
Receded ; backward in short space we gazed, 
To seek the stranger ; but he was not there. 
We marked the King alone, with close-pressed hands 
Shading his brow, as if appalled by forms 
More terrible than human sight could bear. 
A few short moments ; — and we saw him bowed 
Prostrate — adoring in one prayer the Earth, 
And high Olympus, dwelling of the Gods. 



200 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS, 

But what the vanished stranger's wondrous fate, 

Save royal Theseus, man can never tell. 

For neither red and angry bolts of Jove 

Consumed him as he stood ; nor maddening storm 

Hath swept his relics to the rolling sea ; 

Some God conveyed him hence, or yawning earth 

Oped a new passage through her pathless caves, 

A painless passage to the realms of peace. 

Such doom demands no wailing ; for he fell 

By slow disease unwithered, of mankind 

Most wondrous in his doom. Though this my tale 

Excite suspicion of my cooler sense, 

I will not yield to those who count me senseless. 

Ch. Where are the maidens, with the friends 
who led them ? 

Col. They are not far ; the sound of wailing wild 
Proclaims too well that they approach us now. 

Enter Antigone and Ismene. 



ANTIGONE, ISMENE, COLONIATE, CHORUS. 
STROPHE I. 

Ant. Ah ! 'tis no common or familiar grief 
That wounds us now — we mourn not now alone 



(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 201 

Our guilty birth from that unhappy sire, 
For whose beloved sake, 
Serene and patient, countless toils we bore ; 
Now are we plunged in ills unspeakable, 
Which we behold and bear. 
Ch. What is it? 

Ant. 'Twere vain, my friends, to tell — 
Tis past the imagining of one who feels not. 
Ch. Hath he departed ? 
Ant. He hath passed as thou 
Wouldst most desire his miseries should close. 
And wherefore ? Nor destroying war 

Nor ocean wrought his doom ; 

But earth in terror opened wide, 

And snatched him to his rest — 

Ah me ! and o'er our eyes 

A deadly night hath closed. 

Henceforth, alas ! in what far-distant clime, 

Wandering o'er what wild billowy sea, 

A refuge shall we find? 

STROPHE II. 

Is. Alas ! I know not. 
O that remorseless death 
Would grant the hapless child 



202 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

To share her father's tomb. Henceforth, to me 7 
Life is but lingering death. 

Ch. Oh best of daughters ! most beloved ! 
In resignation must ye bow 

To Heaven's high will, nor thus indulge despair, 
Who would contemn your lot ? 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Ant. Then man, alas ! may long for woe itself : 
What mortals deem most joyless was my joy, 
While these fond arms his aged form embraced. 
My father, my beloved, 
Entombed for ever in the cheerless grave, 
Dear to my heart wert thou when bowed in age, 
And dear shalt ever be ! 

Ch. He hath accomplished — 

Ant. Yea ; he hath indeed 
Obtained the warmest wishes of his breast. 

Ch. What wished he thus ? 

Ant. He wished to breathe his last 
In a strange land ; in a strange land indeed 
He died ; and in eternal gloom 
Now sleeps beneath the sod, 
Leaving no transient woe ; for long, 
My father, these sad eyes 



CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 203 

Ceaseless shall weep. I know 

No hope that shall erase 

This woe. Alas ! it was not well to die 

In a strange land, and dying leave 

Thy daughter desolate ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Is. Wretched Ismene ! 
What doom awaits me now, 
Forsaken, friendless all ! 
Thee, too, beloved maid, — thee, as myself, 
Of a loved sire bereft. 

Ch. Yet think how blessed was the close, 
Dear virgins, of his dreary course. 
Cease, cease your waitings ; none of mortal birth 
From wretchedness are free. 

STROPHE III. 

Ant. Once more, dear sister, let us hence. 

Is. And by what aim impelled ? 

Ant. My bosom burns to — 

Is. What? 

Ant. To see the funeral-bed— 

Is. Of whom ? 

Ant. My father ! wretched me. 



204 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

Is. Would Heaven thy purpose sanction ? Seest 
thou not — 

Ant. Why thus repress me ? 

Is. Think on this — 

Ant. Why yet deter me ? 

Is. He lies unburied, and apart from all. 

Ant. O lead, and slay me there. 

Is. Woe, woe, unhappy ! where 
Again, deserted and forlorn, 
Shall I in anguish pine 1 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

Ch. Dear virgins, calm your anxious fears. 

Ant. Ah ! whither shall we fly ? 

Ch. Already have ye fled 
Where wrong shall never fall. 

Ant. I own it. 

Ch. Wherefore then despond ? 

Ant. I know not how we shall return to Thebes. 

Ch. Think not of that ; 'tis plunged in ills. 

Ant. It was before ; yet — 
The tide of misery ebbs and flows again. 

Ch. Ah ! ye are tossed upon a shoreless sea. 

Ant. Shoreless indeed ! 

Ch. I know, and pity you. 



CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 205 

Ant. Eternal Jove, ah whither shall we fly 1 
To what surviving hope 
Will Heaven direct us now 1 

Enter Theseus. 



THESEUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 

Thes. Cease, oh unhappy virgins, cease your 
plaints! 
Ye should not weep for him, who oft invoked 
Death, ere it came, to soothe him. 'Tis not well 
To weep ! 

Ant. Great King, we supplicate thy grace. 

Thes. What grace, poor maidens, would ye crave 
from me ? 

Ant. We but implore to gaze 
On our dear father's tomb once more. 

Thes. It cannot be ; that spot ye must not tread. 

Ant. What hast thou said, O King ! the Lord of 
Athens? 

Thes. Virgins, your dying father bade, 
That none of mortal birth should e'er approach 
That spot, or breathe funereal vows 



206 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 

O'er his mysterious tomb. 

This charge observed with faith, he promised peace 

And glory to our realm. 

The God was conscious to my vows, 

And the Infernal Jove, attesting all. 

Ant. If such, indeed, be our lost father's will, 
Be it his daughters' too. Yet grant us now 
Safe conduct to Ogygian Thebes, if yet 
We may avert the miseries that impend 
O'er each doomed brother's head. 

Thes. This will I do ; and all my power can reach 
To soothe and aid you, for the love 
Of him who rests late sepulchred in earth ;— 
In such a task no labour will I shun. 

Ch. But cease your sorrows, virgins, nor indulge 
This wild impassioned woe. — 
All hath been willed by Heaven's disposing handrL 

[Exeunt Omnes. 



ANTIGONE. 



ANTIGONE. 



In forming our estimate of those productions of 
poetical genius, which have appeared in various 
countries and at different periods of time, it should 
ever be remembered, that similarity of conception 
and coincidence of design are totally distinct from, 
and unconnected with, imitation. The same cha- 
racter may indeed present itself, under the same 
aspect, to the contemplation of two minds, each 
gifted with superior powers ; but it does not neces- 
sarily follow, that the more recent writer has been 
contented to pursue the track of his predecessor. 
Though there are several striking features of re- 
semblance between the Cordelia of Shakspeare and 
vol. i. p 



210 ANTIGONE. 

the Antigone of Sophocles,— both eminent for filial 
piety, both summoned to evince it under the most 
trying circumstances, and both, instead of receiving 
the recompense of virtue, consigned to an early 
and miserable doom, — it cannot be imagined, that 
the Prince of the Modern Drama was indebted to his 
Greek precursor for that idea of female excellence, 
which he has so beautifully embodied in the 
daughter of Lear. The simple fact is, that nature 
is the same at every age and in every clime ; and 
these great masters of dramatic poetry acknow- 
ledged no other guide. They knew, that pros- 
perity is not always the reward of virtue ; and that 
no spectacle could be at once more natural and 
affecting, than the sight of beauty and excellence 
descending prematurely to the tomb. 

To us, however, who are but imperfectly ac- 
quainted with the customs of the Ancients, and 
disqualified from allowing them due consideration 
by the diversity of our own, the Greek poet must 
necessarily appear under very material disadvan- 
tage. The very principle on which this drama is 
founded possesses comparatively little interest to 
us ; it can neither excite sympathy nor commisera- 



ANTIGONE. 211 

tion in our minds. It is difficult for us fully to 
comprehend ; — it is impossible for us adequately to 
feel ; — why Antigone should be required to sacrifice 
her own life to the mere interment of her brother's 
corpse. We are indeed aware, that the privation 
of sepulture was esteemed by the Greeks a heavier 
calamity than the loss of life itself, — that the survi- 
ving kindred were enjoined, by the most solemn obli- 
gations, to pay the last sad offices to their departed 
relative, — and that even the * casual traveller, who 
should pass a dead body without sprinkling over it 
three handfuls of dust, subjected himself to a 
penalty of the most tremendous execration. But, 
though we know all this, we cannot feel it ; and, 
consequently, to our minds, the great interest of 
the drama is irreparably lost. 

These remarks are introduced — not, it is hoped, 
without some reference to the subject — to obviate 
any disappointment which might be experienced 



►♦-• •-•-. Precibus non linquar inultis ; 

Teque piacula nulla resolvent. 
Quanquam festinas, non est mora longa ; licebit 

Injecto ter pulvere curras. 

Horat. Lib. I. Od. 28. 

P 2 



212 ANTIGONE. 

on the perusal of this tragedy, particularly by 
those whose expectations are founded on the com- 
mendations of critics, and not derived from ac- 
quaintance with the original. Yet, under all its 
disadvantages, it will be found highly interesting 
and pathetic. That the Athenians, who were the 
most competent judges of its excellence, and among 
whose national defects has never been numbered 
the faculty of being easily pleased, honoured it with 
peculiar approbation, may be collected from two 
facts; 1 that it was represented thirty-two times 
without intermission, and that they requited its 
author with the government of Samos. 

The chorus, indeed, by their servile submission 
to the arbitrary commands of the Tyrant Creon, 
seem to deviate somewhat from the canon prescri- 
bed by Horace : 

Actoris partes chorus officiumque virile ' 
Defendat ; 



* The authority for this fact is the expression of the Scho- 
liast, Aihwr%i $& vl fycLpa. tqvto t^ukotov Sevrepot: which, how- 
ever, may also signify, This drama was the thirty-second 
in order written by Sophocles. 



ANTIGONE. 213 

Hie bonis faveatque, et concilietur amicis, 
Et regat iratos, et amet peccare timentes ; 
Tile dapes laudet mensae brevis ; ille salubrem 
Justitiam, legesque, et apertis otia portis; 
Ille tegat commissa ; Deosque precetur et oret, 
Ut redeat miseris, abeat fortuna superbis. 

Horat. Ars Poet. 193-201. 

But this discrepancy is so judiciously accounted for 
by Potter, that we cannot do better than transcribe 
his words. " In the Persian war Thebes had de- 
serted the cause of glory and of Greece, and was, 
besides, hostile to the Athenian state ; therefore, 
to this generous people, animated with resentment, 
conscious of their own merit, and glowing with all 
the enthusiasm of civil liberty, nothing could be 
more pleasing than a representation of their hated 
enemies, under the most contemptible of all cir- 
cumstances, as slaves to a tyrant." 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



Antigone. 

ISMENE. 

Chorus of aged Thebans. 
Creon, King of Thebes. 

Messengers. 

H^smon, Son of Creon. 

TlRESIAS. 

Eurydice, Wife of Creon. 



ANTIGONE. 



ANTIGONE, ISMENE. 

Ant. Ismene, sister of my fondest love, 
Know'st thou, of those unnumbered ills that sprung 
From our devoted father, one which Jove 
Heaps not on us, who now alone survive him ? 
There is no grief or suffering, nought of shame 
Or keen dishonour, which I cannot trace 
Centred in thy afflictions and mine own. 
E'en now, what new decree doth rumour blaze 
Through all the city, by the King proclaimed ? 
Know'st thou its import ? hast thou heard ? or yet 



216 ANTIGONE. 

Are the fresh wrongs, designed by ruthless foes 
3 Against our dearest friends, concealed from 
thee? 

Is. No tidings of our friends, Antigone, 
Have reached me, sad or joyous, since the hour 
When of our brethren we were both bereft, 
On the same day by mutual rancour slain ; 
Save that to-night the routed Argive host 
Speeds its reluctant flight ; nought know I more 
To wake our hopes or aggravate our fears. 

Ant. I knew too well ; and, therefore, summoned 
thee 
Beyond the palace-gates to hear alone. 

Is. And what? Thy words bespeak a troubled 
soul. 

Ant. For hath not Creon, honouring with a tomb 
One of our brethren, in dishonour held 
Another not less dear ? He hath entombed, 
As Fame reports, with due sepulchral rites, 



3 As Polynices was the elder son of CEdipus, and, conse- 
quently, the rightful inheritor of the crown of Thebes, he had 
already been wronged by the opposition which was made to 
his ascending the throne. Hence the prohibition of Creon, 
that his remains should be interred, was a new and additional 
injury. 



ANTIGONE. 217 

Eteocles, among the Gods below 

An honourable shade. But his decree 

Sternly enjoins the city not to grace 

The wretched Polynices with a grave, 

Nor o'er his relics shed the pitying tear ; 

But leave him unlamented, unentombed, 

4 A welcome banquet to the birds of death, 

Fierce swooping to their prey. Such things, 'tis 

said, 
To you and me, for I must name myself, 
Ordains this worthy Creon, and approaches 
Here too the same stern edict to proclaim, 
Lest any yet plead ignorance. Nor account 
This charge of trivial import. Death awaits 
Him, who shall do the deed, — a public death. 
By stoning from the people. Such is now 
Our perilous state ; and quickly must thou prove 
Whether thy soul is noble as thy birth, 
Or thou degenerate from thy lofty line. 



4 The common reading, slao^ua-i, rendered by Potter 
" whose keen eye marks their prey," appears altogether in- 
admissible. The emendation which we have adopted, 
slo-offAuaiv, has been proposed and approved by the most eminent 
commentators. 



218 ANTIGONE. 

Is. What then, unhappy ! could I more avail, 
5 Who cannot sanction, nor repeal the law ? 

Ant. Reflect awhile. Wilt thou partake my toils ? 

Is. In what emprize ? what is thy wild design ? 

Ant. Wilt thou unite with me to bear away 
The lifeless body ? 

Is. And wilt thou presume 
To give him burial, though the state forbid ? 

Ant. He is my brother ; aye, and thine ; though 
thou 
Art thus reluctant, I will ne'er betray him. 

Is. Too daring sister ! when the King forbids ? 

Ant. He hath no power to hold me from mine 
own. 

Is. O think, dear sister ! think on our poor father * 
How, by a doom inglorious and abhorred, 
He fell ; — and, maddened by detected crimes, 

5 The common reading, remarks Erfurdt on this passage, 
" 7\vnq av jj ^aTTTso-a," is evidently incorrect, since the oppo- 
sition, which ought to exist between the two verbs, does not 
occur here, hvuv tov vopov being exactly the same in significa- 
tion as OaTrrEH/, He, therefore, proposes to read \kxaa,. The 
reader may form his own opinion respecting this emenda- 
tion, which we have contented ourselves with stating, and 
not ventured to adopt. 



ANTIGONE. 219 

Tore out his eyes with self-avenging hand. 
Think how his wife and mother too — she bore 
That twofold name— by the suspended cord 
Her course of suffering closed. Reflect, once more, 
How in one day our hapless brothers slain, 
Each by the other's spear, received alike 
From fratricidal hands their common doom. 
We now are left unfriended and alone : 
And oh, bethink thee, how we must incur 
A doom more dark and fearful, if we dare 
To spurn by force the mandate of our tyrant. 
And weigh this also ; — nature formed us women, 
Weak and unfit to cope with mightier man ; 
Since, therefore, we are swayed by stronger lords, 
Submit we meekly, though to keener wrongs. 
First will I ask forgiveness of the dead, 
That force constrains me to obey the mighty ; 
Then bow to those who hold the sovereign sway. 
To dare a deed so far beyond our strength, 
What is it but distraction ? — 

Ant. I forbear 
To urge thee more ; nay, did thy spirit burn 
To share mine enterprise, I would not now 
Accept thine aid. Act as thy prudence guides thee. 
I will entomb him. For a deed like this, 



220 ANTIGONE. 

Oh what were death but glory ? I shall rest 
Beloved with him I love, my last sad duty 
Boldly discharged. Our latest, longest home 
Is with the dead ; and therefore would I please 
The lifeless, not the living. I shall rest 
For ever there ; but thou, if such thy pleasure, 
Trample in scorn on those most sacred rites, 
Which the Gods reverence. 

Is. Nay, I do not hold 
Those rites in scorn ; but, when the state forbids, 
I am not framed by nature to resist. 

Ant. Still feign such fair pretences ; I will hence 
To heap a mound o'er my beloved brother. 

Is. Alas, my sister ! how I tremble for thee. 

Ant. Fear not for me; but look to thine own 
safety. 

Is. At least, to none impart thy bold design ; 
Veil it in darkness ; I too will be silent. 

Ant. Nay, but declare it ; I shall hate thee more, 
If thou forbear my purpose to divulge. 

Is. 6 Thou'rt warm; and yet methinks a deed 
like this 

6 QsgfMtv iir) -^v^o7a-i y.x^iav e^n ; literally, you have a 
warm heart in a cold business. This idiomatic expression is 
difficult to be preserved in a translation. 



ANTIGONE. 221 

Might damp thy zeal. 

Ant. I know that those I please, 
Whom most to please becomes me. 

Is. Couldst thou do it — 
It far transcends thy power. 

Ant. I will forbear, 
Whene'er my power shall fail me. 

Is. Tis unseemly 
To aim at objects which transcend thy reach. 

Ant. Nay, if thou still persist to answer thus, 
I cannot choose but hate thee ; and thy words 
Will make thee no less hateful to the dead. 
Leave me, and my presumption, as thou deem'st it, 
To dare the menaced evil. I can suffer 
No heavier penalty than not to die 
An honourable death. 

Is. If such thy purpose, 
Go ; void of prudence do I deem the deed, 
Though fond and faithful to the friends thou lovest. 
[Exeunt Antigone and Ismene. 



222 ANTIGONE. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Beam of the sun ! the brightest ray 

That ever shot from yon blue heaven, 

To gild our stately portals seven ; 

Eye of the golden day ! 

At length thine orient splendours glancing 

O'er Dirce's hallowed stream are dancing, 

Urging to swifter, wilder flight 

7 The chief with argent buckler bright ; 

Who, from proud Argos' distant towers, 

Led to our land his martial powers, 

And to the dubious field of fame 

With vengeful Polynices came. 

As the swift eagle spreads her snow-white wing, 

And downward swoops impetuous to the strand ; 
So, with reverberant arms, and casques that fling 

Their floating crests in air, he led the Argive 
band. 

7 Adrastus, King of Argos, and father-in-law of Poly- 



ANTIGONE. 223 



ANTISTROPHE I. 

High o'er our towers the chieftain stood, 

With spears in carnage deeply dyed, 

Circling our portals in his pride ; — 

But ere in Theban blood 

His wrath was quenched, ere flames were curling 

Around the destined turrets furling ; 

In swift retreat, dismayed he fled ; — 

Such wild alarm and withering dread 

Full on his rear our troops impelled, 

8 And all his dragon-frenzy quelled. 

For Jove, with just abhorrence fired, 

Hears lofty vaunts by pride inspired ; 

He marked, as onward rushed the adverse powers, 

Radiant with gold, with armour's echoing clang, 
And hurled the brandished bolt, as to our towers, 

With conquest's maddening shout, th' infuriate 
boaster sprang. 



AvrWa.Ku Svexeigupci fyuKouri. The exact signification of 
theword Svaypfupa. has excited some discussion. It denotes 
properly, " res segre superabilis." Apaxom is applied by 
most commentators to the Thebans. There is, however, 
no necessity for such an application, as the expression may 
be used, in a general sense, to denote the violent hostility 



224 ANTIGONE. 



STROPHE II. 

9 Armed with devouring flames, at once he fell 

A blackening corpse to earth, whose rancour past 

Swift as the winged blast 

When rising whirlwinds darkly swell. 

But other ills befel ; — 

For mighty Mars the storm of battle guided, 

And still to each his doom divided. 

At the seven gates, seven chiefs of martial might, 

With seven bold Thebans matched in equal fight, 

Left their bright spoils to grace Tropaean Jove ; 

Save that devoted pair — who, from one sire, 

One guilty mother sprung — in mortal ire 

With ruthless spears in stern encounter strove, 

Victorious each, and doomed an equal fate to prove. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

But Conquest comes, with noblest names renowned, 
To grace her Thebes, whose sons control the car ; 



of the Argives against the Thebans. The word bellua 
occurs among Latin authors in a similar sense. 

9 Capaneus, struck down by a thunderbolt, while attempt- 
ing to scale the walls. 



ANTIGONE. 225 

Now be the woes of war 

Henceforth in glad oblivion drowned, 

And let each fane resound 

With joyous vigils, Bacchus first adoring, 

To Bacchus first the glad strain pouring. — 

But lo ! the King whose rule we now revere, 

Menceceus' late-crowned son, advances here ; 

Raised to imperial sway by favouring Fate ; — 

Now weighty cares seem labouring in his breast, 

And hence I deem the Monarch's high behest 

Bade the swift heralds summon to debate 

This chosen conclave, — these, the sages of the state. 

Enter Creon. 



CREON, CHORUS. 

Cr. Thebans, the Gods, who willed our struggling 
state 
To be the sport of many an adverse wave, 
Once more have reared it vigorous from the storm. 
I sent the heralds to convene you here, 
Apart from all, for well I ever knew 
Your firm allegiance to the house of Laius ; 

VOL. I. Q 



226 ANTIGONE. 

While (Edipus bore sway, ye nobly proved it ; 

And on the wreck of all his prouder fortunes 

Firm were ye still, and loyal to his sons. 

Since in one day they met an equal doom, 

By mutual hate destroying and destroyed, 

On me devolve the sceptre and the sway, 

As to the dead by nearest ties allied. 

Vain were the task to trace man's secret soul, 

The latent thoughts and judgements of his mind, 

Till proved by empire— practised in the laws. 

For me, the man who guides the helm of state, 

Nor to the sagest counsels firmly cleaves, 

But curbs the natural current of his thoughts, 

By servile fear constrained ; such do I deem, 

Such ever deemed, most worthless. Lightly, too, 

That man I value, who regards his friend 

Beyond his country's welfare. For myself; — 

All-seeing Jove attest my stainless truth ! — 

I will not tamely and in silence mark 

Peril and ruin o'er the state impend, 

In place of safety ; never will I deem 

That man my friend who is my country's foe. 

Experience tells me, on the state alone 

Our weal depends ; and while in steady course 

Her bark is steered, we cannot fail of friends. 



ANTIGONE. 227 

By rules like these will I exalt the city ; 
And now, with these concurring, this decree 
Have I proclaimed to all our citizens, 
Touching the sons of (Edipus. We will 
To lay the youth, who in his country's cause 
Died nobly righting, first by valorous deeds 
Ennobled, in an honourable tomb, 
With all sepulchral splendours, which are wont 
To grace the mighty dead. But for his brother — 
I speak of Polynices — who, returned 
To his paternal realms and Patron-Gods 
From distant exile, panted to subvert 
His native city with devouring flame ; — 
To sate his vengeful thirst with Theban blood, 
And bear his captive countrymen to bondage ; — 
We will that none commit him to the tomb 
With hallowed rites, or mourn above his bier, 
But leave his corpse unburied ; let the dogs 
And wild birds batten on his loathed remains. 
Such is our will ; for never shall the base 
Receive from me like reverence with the virtuous ; 
But the good man, who seeks my country's welfare, 
In life or death, shall ever win from me 
Unvarying honour due. 

Q 2 



228 ANTIGONE. 

Ch. If such thy pleasure, 
Son of Menceceus, towards the ruthless foe 
And gallant friend of Thebes ; enforce the law 
Thy kingly mandate sanctions, on the dead, 
As on ourselves, whoe'er are living still. 

Cr. Ye then attend to see our will obeyed. 

Ch. A task like this befits more vigorous youth. 

Cr. Guards are already set to watch the dead. 

Ch. What more than this wouldstthou command? 

Cr. That ye 
Concede no grace to those who dare transgress. 

Ch. Who is so senseless as to long for death ? 

Cr. Aye, death stiall be the meed ; but men too oft 
By hope of treacherous gain are lured to ruin. 

Enter Messenger. 



CREON, CHORUS, MESSENGER. 



Mess. I dare not say, my Lord ! with breathless 



And hurried step I sought thy royal presence, 
For ponderings of dark presage long detained me, 
And oft I turned as to retrace my path, 



ANTIGONE. 229 

Long unresolved — for various were the pleas 

My soul suggested; — " Wherefore dost thou speed, 

Unhappy man ! where woe and wrath await thee ? 

Yet what avails to linger ? Should the King 

Learn thine unwelcome errand from another, 

How wouldst thou rue thy rashness ! " Musing thus, 

I came with steps irresolute and slow. 

Thus a short path becomes a lengthened way. 

At length my final sentence here impelled me ; 

And, though mine errand gall thee, I must speak. 

I come confiding in this only hope, 

Nought can I suffer more than Heaven ordains. 

Cr. And what excites this strange solicitude ? 

Mess. First of myself indulge a brief remark. 
Nor have I done the deed, nor can I tell 
Who did it ; vengeance therefore on my head 
Would fall unjustly. 

Cr. Well dost thou evade, 
And raise a cautious rampart round thy cause ; 
Thine errand seems of something new and strange. 

Mess. Unwonted perils wake unusual fear. 

Cr. Wilt thou not speak, and hie thee hence 
absolved ? 

Mess. Now, then, I speak. Some one hath just 
interred 



230 ANTIGONE. 

The corpse, and fled ; first sprinkling o'er the dead 
The loose dry dust, all decent rites discharged. 

Cr. Ha ! sayst thou so ? Who, then, hath done 
the deed 1 

Mess. I know not ; — not a stroke of axe was there, 
Nor mark of delving spade ; the earth around 
Was solid and unbroken, and by track 
Of wheel unfurrowed ; not a trace betrayed 
The viewless workman. When the earliest watch 
Of morn revealed it, it awoke in all 
A sad astonishment. No mound was raised, 
And yet the corpse had vanished ; the light dust 
Was sprinkled o'er it, as by one who shunned 
Pollution from the dead. No track appeared 
Of beast or ravening dog, who might have torn 
The lifeless relics for his bloody fare. 
Then rose the interchange of keen reproach, 
Guard criminating guard. Nay, had the strife 
Increased to mortal rancour, none was there 
To quell the rising madness. Each accused 
His fellow of the deed, yet visible guilt 
Attached to none, and each repelled the charge. 
10 We stood prepared to lift the glowing mass 

10 This singular allusion proves the antiquity of the trial by 
ordeal, so prevalent in the monkish ages. 



ANTIGONE. 231 

Of heated metal, through the living flame 
To pass, and call to witness the great Gods, 
That all were most unconscious of the deed, 
Unknowing who devised or who performed it. 
At last, when all our scrutiny was vain, 
One spake, whose sentence bowed us to the earth 
With wild o'ermastering terror, for we could not 
Refute his reasoning, nor devise a scheme 
Less fraught with peril : — thus its purport ran : 
That this bold deed be straight disclosed to thee ; 
It could not be concealed. His voice prevailed ; 
The lots were cast ; on me, alas ! it fell, 
To bear these ' welcome tidings. I am come 
Unwilling herald to reluctant hearers ; — 
None greet with joy the messenger of ill. 

Ch. O King ! already have my thoughts ascribed 
This strange event to interposing Gods. 

Cr. Cease, ere mine anger kindle at thy words ; — 
Lest thou be found at once unwise and aged. 
Who can endure thy babbling, when thou sayst 



1 Spoken ironically. The expression in the original is 
rot/To roc.ya.Qbv, which might be accurately rendered by " this 
precious intelligence," a phrase evidently altogether inadmis- 
sible into tragic poetry. 



232 ANTIGONE. 

The Gods revere a wretch accursed as this ? 
Would they entomb with honourable rites, 
As of such meed deserving, one who came 
To fire their columned fanes and costly shrines, 
Their land to ravage, and subvert their laws ? 
Seest thou the Gods requiting guilt with glory ? 
It is not thus. A rebel faction lurks 
Within the state, who murmur at our sway, 
Muttering their spleen in secret, and disdain 
To stoop the lofty crest beneath our yoke 
In due submission. They, I know full well 
By fraudful arts of bribery have suborned 
Their hirelings to the deed. Ne'er sprung device 
So fraught with evils to mankind as gold. 
This lays imperial cities in the dust; — 
Drives men to exile from their native land ; — 
'Tis this instructs and turns the generous soul 
From honour's onward road to deeds of baseness ; — 
This paves a path to artifice and fraud, 
And every nameless ill that shames mankind. 1 
But they, whom lucre to the deed hath led, 
Have sealed their doom, and shall endure the death ; 
And oh ! if yet I fear th' Eternal Jove, 
Be well assured, for by His name I swear, 
Unless ye find, and bring before our presence, 



ANTIGONE. 233 

The authors of this outrage, death alone 
Shall not suffice for vengeance ; ye shall hang 
Alive, till ye reveal th' atrocious wrong, 
That, well apprised whence profit should arise, 
Ye may hereafter seek it there, and learn, 
That not from every source may gain accrue. 
Far more by lawless lucre wilt thou mark 
Consigned to ruin, than from ill preserved. 

Mess. May I now speak, or must I thus depart ? 

Cr. Know'st thou not yet how odious are thy words ? 

Mess. Harsh to thine ear, or hateful to thy soul? 

Cr. "Why dost thou scan the nature of my pain? 

Mess. The author of the deed hath galled thy soul ; 
I but offend thine ear. 

Cr. Wretch ! thou wert born 
A most inveterate babbler. 

Mess. Of this deed, 
At least, I am not guilty. 

Cr. Thou hast bartered 
Thy life for worthless gold. 

Mess. Alas ! how keenly 
Suspicions, though unfounded, wound the guiltless. 

Cr. Aye, prate upon suspicion ; but unless 
Ye find the criminal, soon shall ye own 
On lawless gain a fearful vengeance waits. 



234 ANTIGONE. 

Mess. Soon be the guilty found ; yet be it thus, 

[Exit Creon. 
Or not, (for this must fate alone decide,) 
No more shalt thou behold me here return ; 
And now, preserved beyond or hope or thought, 
I owe glad praises to protecting Heaven. 

[Exit Messenger. 

Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Mid nature's countless wonders none is found 
More marvellous than man ! O'er the white wave 
He speeds his daring course, while foam around 
The swelling surges, and loud whirlwinds rave, 
Fearless the billows and the blast to brave. 
Man, year by year, the labouring steed constrains 
To urge the rolling plough, a docile slave, 
O'er Earth, Supreme of Gods; — whose teeming veins 
Nor countless years exhaust, nor ceaseless labour 
drains. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

The feathered tribes that cut the yielding air, 
The wilder race who prowl the pathless wood, 
Alike can man's inventive skill ensnare 



ANTIGONE. 235 

In fine-wove toils ; nor less the watery brood 
Who sport secure in ocean's trackless flood. 
Man, by superior art, can curb and chain 
The brute, wild ranging o'er the mountains rude ; 
The haughty steed elate with flowing mane, 
And the fierce mountain-bull beneath his yoke 
restrain. 

STROPHE II. 

The might of eloquence he taught, 
The rapid train of counselled thought, 
The social ties that link mankind ; — 
He taught the sheltering roof to form, 
And from the " z arrows of the storm" 

A safe asylum find. 

Skilful in all things, no surprise 

Finds him unwarned or unprepared ;~ 

One art alone his skill defies, 

The shaft of death to ward : 

Though man for many a woe hath found 

Relief, and balm for many a wound. 

a Av<roiA@%a tpei/ynv @&y). Sophocles terms hail " the arrows of 
the storm." Milton (and after him Gray) has inverted the 
metaphor, and termed thick flying arrows " sleet of arrowy 
shower."— Potter. 



236 ANTIGONE. 



ANTISTROPHE II. 

Unfettered springs his active mind 
High o'er the range by Hope assigned ; 
To virtue soars, or sinks to shame ; 
Him who the sacred laws reveres, 
And Heaven's avenging justice fears, 
His country crowns with fame ; — 
But instant from her breast be driven 
The wretch accursed, whose guilty soul, 
From impious deeds, nor fear of Heaven 
Nor earthly laws control. 
Far from my hearth let such remove, 
Nor share my counsel and my love. 

Ha ! what new wonders burst upon my sight ? 

How — known too well — can I deny 

This is the young Antigone ? — 

Oh, thou unhappy child 

Of an unhappy father ! wherefore thus ? — 

Why do they drag thee here ? — 

Not as a rebel to the royal laws, 

And in thy rashness seized ? — 

Antigone is brought in by the Messenger. 



ANTIGONE. 237 



CHORUS, MESSENGER, ANTIGONE. 

Mess. This is the daring author of the deed. 
We seized her in the act of sepulture — 
But where is Creon ? 

Ch. At thy need again, 
From out the palace, lo ! the Monarch comes. 

Enter Creon. 



CREON, MESSENGER, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 

Cr. What make ye here ? What timely chance 
hath fallen ? 

Mess. Nought, O my Lord, should man by oath 
forswear, 
Lest calmer thought confute the rash resolve. 
I vowed, by thy stern menaces appalled, 
Long should it be ere hither I returned ; 
But joy is doubly sweet, when hope itself 
Hath ceased to look for gladness. I am come, — 
Though bound by strongest oath to come no more, — 
Leading this virgin, whom we found in act 
The body to entomb. In this, at least, 



238 ANTIGONE. 

No lot was thrown ;. the unexpected prize 
Is all mine own. Now, Monarch, at thy will 
Receive — convict — condemn the conscious maid. — 
Approve mine innocence, and send me hence 
Acquitted and absolved. 

Cr. Whence bring'st thou her, 
And wherefore ? — Speak. 

Mess. She hath interred the dead ; 
Thou hear'st the whole. 

Cr. And art thou well assured 
Of thine assertion ? Canst thou prove the charge ? 

Mess. I saw her hand entomb the corpse, by thee 
Denied a grave. Speak I not plainly now ? 

Cr. How didst thou see her ? — where detect and 
seize her ? 

Mess. I will recount the whole. Soon as we 
reached 
The spot, by thine indignant threats appalled, 
From the pale corpse we swept the covering dust, 
Laid bare the putrid relics, and sate down 
Upon a loftier mound, in the free air, 
To shun the fetid odours of the corpse. 
While each his comrade urged with keen reproach, 
Denounced on him who first shrunk back from toil. 
Thus rolled the hours, till now the noon-day sun 



ANTIGONE. 239 

In the mid arch of Heaven resplendent flamed, 
And the full rays beat fiercely on our heads ; 
When sudden from the earth a whirlwind rose — 
Troubled the clear blue sky, o'er the far plain 
Impetuous swept, and of their foliage dense 
The waving woods divested. The hot air 
Was choked with dusty clouds, and we, with eyes 
Deep-closed, this Heaven-inflicted pest endured. 
The blast at length subsided. Then we saw 
This maid, who wailed with loud and bitter cry, 
As the poor bird, that hastens to her young, 
And finds her nest deserted, — thus the virgin, 
Soon as uncovered she discerned the corpse, 
Redoubled her shrill waitings, and invoked 
Dire imprecations on the heads of all 
Who wrought this sacrilege. Then in her hands 
She brought the light dry dust, and from a vase 
With nicest art ensculptured, on the dead 
Poured due libations trine. We at the sight 
Rushed onward and secured her— nought appalled ; 
Then straightly taxed her with the former deed, 
As with the present; she confessed the whole. 
Welcome, yet painful, was her frank avowal. 
To shun impending evil is most welcome ; 



240 ANTIGONE. 

Painful to work the woe of those we honour. 
Yet all regrets are fruitless, and must yield 
To mine own preservation. 

Cr. Answer thou, 
Bending thy head to earth, — dost thou confess, 
Or canst deny the charge? 

Ant. I do confess it 
Freely ; I scorn to disavow the act. 

Cr. Thou, from the threatened penalty absolved, 

[To Messenger. 
Go where thou wilt, acquitted. But for thee, 

[To Antigone. 
Reply with answer brief to one plain question, 
Without evasion. Didst thou know the law, 
That none should do this deed ? 

Ant. I knew it well ; 
How could I fail to know, it was most plain. 

Cr. Didst thou then dare transgress our royal 
mandate ? 

Ant. Ne'er did eternal Jove such laws ordain, 
Or Justice, throned amid th' Infernal Powers, 
Who on mankind these holier rites imposed ; — 
Nor can I deem thine edict armed with power 
To contravene the firm unwritten laws 



ANTIGONE. 241 

Of the just Gods, thyself a weak frail mortal ! 
These are no laws of yesterday, — they live 
For evermore, and none can trace their birth. 
I would not dare, by mortal threat appalled, 
To violate their sanction, and incur 
The vengeance of the Gods. I knew before 
That I must die, though thou hadst ne'er pro- 
claimed it; 
And if I perish ere th' allotted term, 
I deem that death a blessing. Who that lives, 
Like me, encompassed by unnumbered ills, 
But would account it blessedness to die ? 
If then I meet the doom thy laws assign, 
It nothing grieves me. Had I left my brother, 
From mine own mother sprung, on the bare earth 
To lie unburied, that indeed might grieve me ; 
But for this deed I mourn not. If to thee 
Mine actions seem unwise, 'tis thine own soul 
That errs from wisdom when it deems me senseless. 

Ch. This maiden shares her father's stubborn soul 
And scorns to bend beneath misfortune's power. 

Cr. Yet thou mightst know, that loftiest spirits 
oft 
Are bowed to deepest shame; and thou mightst mark 
The hardest metal soft and ductile made 

VOL. I. R 



242 ANTIGONE. 

By the resistless energy of flame ; 
Oft, too, the fiery courser have I seen 
By a small bit constrained. High arrogant thoughts 
Beseem not one, whose duty is submission. 
In this presumption she was lessoned first, 
When our imperial laws she dared to spurn, 
And to that insolent wrong fresh insult adds, 
In that she glories vaunting in the deed. 
Henceforth no more deem mine a manly soul ; — i 
Concede that name to hers, if from this crime 
She shall escape unpunished. Though she spring 
From our own sister ; — were she sprung from one 
3 Dearer than all whom Hercian Jove defends. 
She and her sister shall not now evade 
A shameful death ; for I accuse her, too, 
And deem her privy to these lawless rites. 
Hence, call her hither ; late within I marked 
Her frenzied ravings and distempered mood. 
The mind that broods in darkness o'er its guilt 
By starts of frenzy is betrayed to light. 
I hate the wretch, who, when convicted, strives 



3 In the original, from one more near of blood than all 
under the protection of Hercian Jove. This Jupiter was 
the guardian of the house, in the court of which his altar stood. 



ANTIGONE. 243 

To veil detected guilt in honour's garb. 

Ant. And wouldst thou aught beyond my death ? 

Or. No more ; 
Tis all I seek. 

Ant. Then wherefore dost thou pause ? — 
For all thy words are hateful to mine ear, 
And ever will be hateful ; nor my speech 
To thee is less unwelcome. Whence could I 
Obtain a holier praise, than by committing 
My brother to the tomb ? These, too, I knew, 
Would all approve the action, but that fear 
Curbs their free thoughts to base and servile silence. 
But 'tis the noble privilege of tyrants 
To say and do whate'er their lordly will, 
Their only law, may prompt. 

Cr. Of all the Thebans, 
Dost thou alone see this \ 

Ant. They too behold it ; 
But fear constrains them to an abject silence. 

Cr. Doth it not shame thee to dissent from these? 

Ant. I cannot think it shame to love my brother. 

Cr. Was not he too, who died for Thebes, thy 
brother ? 

Ant. He was ; and of the self-same parents born. 

Cr. Why then dishonour him to grace the guilty ? 

r 2 



244 ANTIGONE. 

Ant. The dead entombed will not attest thy 
words. 

Cr. Yes ; if thou honour with an equal doom 
That impious wretch — 

Ant. He did not fall a slave ; 
He was my brother. 

Cr. Yet he wronged his country ; 
The other fought undaunted in her cause. 

Ant. Still Death at least demands an equal law. 

Cr. Ne'er should the base be honoured like the 
noble. 

Ant. Who knows, if this be holy in the shades? 

Cr. Death cannot change a foe into a friend. 

Ant. My nature tends to mutual love, not hatred. 

Cr. Then to the grave, and love them, if thou 
must ; — 
But while I live, no woman shall bear sway. 

Ch. Lo ! at the portal fair Ismene stands, 
Dissolved in tears at her loved sister's peril. 
The cloud of heartfelt sorrow lowers 
O'er her dejected brow, 
And dims the radiance of her loveliness. 



Ismene is brought in. 



ANTIGONE. 245 



CREON, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 

Cr. O thou false viper ! stealing through my house 
To prey upon my vitals ; till this hour 
I knew not I had nurtured two such furies, 
Leagued to subvert my throne. Approach, and 

tell me, — 
Art thou accomplice in this venturous deed, 
Or wilt thou swear thine innocence of the charge ? 

Is. The deed, so she deny not, I have shared. 
I shared the crime, and will partake the vengeance. 

Ant. Such an assertion justice will disclaim ; 
Nor wouldst thou give, nor I accept thine aid. 

Is. Yet in this deep extremity of woe, 
I do not blush to share thy destiny. 

Ant. Whose deed is this, let Hell's dark Powers 
attest ; 
I value not a friend who loves in words. 

Is. Ah ! do not — do not spurn me thus, my sister ; 
Let me partake thy doom ; and thus in death 
Revere my brother. 

Ant. No ; die not with me, 
Nor claim a deed thou didst not ; 'tis enough 
That I must perish. 

Is. Yet, bereft of thee, 



246 ANTIGONE. 

What still hath life to charm me ? 

Ant. Ask thy Creon ; 
Thou court'st his royal favour. 

Is. Wherefore thus 
Wound me, dear sister, when it nought avails thee ? 

Ant. I mourn, although I mock thee. 

Is. Is there nought 
In which I yet may aid thee? 

Ant. Save thyself ; 
I do not envy thine escape. 

Is. Ah me ! 
Am I forbidden e'en to share thy doom ? 

Ant. It was thy choice to live; — 'tis mine to die. 

Is. Alas ! thou dost not fall unwarned by me. 

Ant. Thy words to thee seemed weighty ; I es- 
teemed it 
True wisdom thus to act. 

Is. And yet our share 
Is equal in this crime. 

Ant. Be of good cheer — 
Thou yet mayst live ; — my life hath long been vowed 
To reverence thus the dead. 

Cr. Of these two maidens, 
The one hath gone distracted, and the other 
Was born an idiot. 



ANTIGONE. 247 

Is. Oh, my Lord ! the mind, 
Is bowed by misery from its native strength, 
And changed to utter weakness. 

Cr. Such was thine, 
When thou wert aiding in a deed like this. 

Is. What charm hath life's bleak solitude for me, 
If I must lose my sister ? 

Cr. Name her not ; 
She hath already perished. 

Is. Wilt thou slay 
Thy son's affianced bride ? 

Cr. Aye ; for a race 
May spring from other nuptials. 

Is. None, at least, 
So dear to him and her. 

Cr. I scorn to wed 
My son to a base woman. 

Is. Dearest Hsemon ! 
How doth thy father pour contempt on thee. 

Cr. Thou and thy nuptials are to me most hateful. 

Is. Wilt thou then rob thy Hsemon of his bride ? 

Cr. Death shall ere long dissolve these hated 
nuptials. 

Is. Alas ! it seems the stern decree is fixed ; 
And she must perish. 



248 ANTIGONE. 

Cr. So must thou, and I. 
Quick, slaves!— delay no longer — lead them in. 
It ill beseems that maidens thus should roam 
At large ; and e'en the boldest will recede, 
When they discern the swift approach of Death. 

[Exeunt Antigone and Ismene, guarded. 



Cht 



STROPHE I. 

What blessedness is theirs, whose earthly date 

Glides unembittered by the taste of woe ! 
But when a house is struck by angry Fate, 

Through all its line what ceaseless miseries flow!^ 
As when from Thrace rude whirlwinds sweep, 
And in thick darkness wrap the yawning deep, 
Conflicting surges on the strand 
Dash the black mass of boiling sand 
Rolled from the deep abyss ; — the rocky shore, 
Struck by the swollen tide, reverberates the roar. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

I see the ancient miseries of thy race, 
O Labdacus ! arising from the dead 



ANTIGONE. 249 

With fresh despair ; nor sires from sons efface 

The curse some angry Power hath rivetted 
For ever on thy destined line ! 
Once more a cheering radiance seemed to shine 
O'er the last relic of thy name ; — 
This, too, the Powers of Darkness claim, 
Cut off by Hell's keen scythe, combined 
With haughty words unwise, and frenzy of the mind. 

STROPHE II. 

Can mortal arrogance restrain 

Thy matchless might, Imperial Jove ! 

Which all-subduing sleep assaults in vain, 
And months celestial, as they move 

In never- wearied train ; — 

Spurning the power of age, enthroned in might, 

Thou dwell'st mid Heaven's broad light. 

This was, in ages past, thy firm decree, 

Is now, and must for ever be ; 

That none of mortal race on earth shall know, 

A life of joy serene, a course unmarked by woe. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Hope beams with ever-varying ray ; 

Now fraught with blessings to mankind, 



250 ANTIGONE. 

Now with vain dreams that lure but to betray ;— 

And man pursues, with ardour blind, 
Her still deluding way, 
Till on the latent flame he treads dismayed. 
Wisely the Sage hath said, 
And time hath proved his truth, that when by 

Heaven 
To woe Man's darkened soul is driven, 
Evil seems good to his distorted mind,' 
Till soon he meets and mourns the doom by Fate 

assigned. 

But lo ! the youngest of thy sons, 
Hasmon advances — comes he wrung with grief 
For the impending doom 
Of his fair plighted bride, Antigone, 
And mourning much his blasted nuptial joys ? — 
Enter H^emon. 



HtEMON, CREON, CHORUS. 

Cr. We soon shall need no prophet to inform us.- 
Hearing our doom irrevocably past 
On thy once-destined bride, com'st thou, my son, 
Incensed against thy father ? Or, thus acting, 



ANTIGONE. 251 

Still do we share thy reverence 1 
Hce. I am thine ; 

And thou, my father, dost direct my youth 

By prudent counsels, which shall ever guide me ; 

Nor any nuptials can with me outweigh 

A father's just command. 
Cr. Tis well, my son. 

A mind like this befits thee, to esteem 

All else subservient to a father's will. 

Hence 'tis the prayer, the blessing of mankind, 

To nourish in their homes a duteous race, 

4 Who on their foes may well requite their wrongs, 

And, as their father, honour friends sincere. 

But he who to a mean and dastard race 

Gives life, engenders to himself regret,"/ 

And much derision to his taunting foes. 

Then do not thou, my son, by love betrayed, 

.Debase thy generous nature for a woman ; 
But think how joyless is the cold embrace 
Of an unworthy consort.) Is there wound 



4 Like as the arrows in the hand of the giant, even so are 
young children. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full 
of them, they shall not be ashamed when they speak with 
their enemies in the gate. — Ps. cxxvii. 5, 6. 



252 ANTIGONE. 

Which galls more keenly than a faithless friend ? 
Spurn, then, this maiden, as a foe abhorred, 
To seek in Hell a more congenial bridegroom. 
Since her have I convicted, — her alone 
Of all the city daring to rebel, 
My people shall not brand their King a liar ! 
She dies ! And let her now invoke her Jove, 
Who guards the rights of kindred. If I brook 
Rebellion thus from those allied by blood, 
How strong a plea may strangers justly urge ! 
He who upholds the honour of his house, 
By strict, impartial justice, will be proved 
True to the public weal. Nor can I doubt 
The man who governs well, yet knows no less 
To render due obedience, will be found 
A just and firm confederate in the storm 
Of peril and of war. Who dares presume 
With insolent pride to trample on the laws, 
Shall never win from me the meed of praise. 
He whom the state elects should be obeyed 
In all his mandates, trivial though they seem, 
Or just or unjust. Of all human ills, 
None is more fraught with woes than anarchy] 
It lays proud states in ruin, it subverts 
Contending households, 'mid the battle strife 



ANTIGONE. 253 

Scatters the serried ranks, while to the wise, 

Who promptly yield, obedience brings success. 

Still, then, by monarchs this should be maintained, 

Nor e'er surrendered to a woman's will. 

Tis better far, if we must fall, to fall 

By man, than thus be branded the weak prey, 

The abject prey, of female conquerors. 

Ch. To us, unless our soul be dull with age, 
Thy words, O King, seem well and wisely urged. 

H(E. The Gods, my father, have on man bestowed 
Their noblest treasure — Reason. To affirm, 
That in thy words from prudence thou hast 

swerved, 
Nor power have I, nor knowledge to maintain. 
Such task were meeter from a stranger's lips. 
'Tis mine to guard thine interests ; — to explore 
How each may think, and act, and vent on thee 
His cutting censure. Thine indignant eye 
Appals the people, when their uttered thoughts 
Might haply wound thine ear. But to observe 
These darkly-whispered murmurs is my office. 
" How the whole state laments this hapless maid, 
" Of all her sex least worthy of such doom 
" As waits her now for deeds most truly noble ; 
" Who could not brook to leave her brother, slain 



254 ANTIGONE. 

" In fight, without a tomb, nor cast his corpse 
" A prey to ravening dogs and birds obscene. 
" Doth she not merit glory's brightest meed?" 
Such is the general sentence. O my father, 
No treasure can be dearer to thy son, 
Than thine own prosperous honours. What reflects 
Such pride on children as a generous sire^ 
Such joy on parents as a noble offspring ? 
O, then, indulge not thou this mood alone, 
To deem no reasoning cogent save thine own ; 
For he who vaunts himself supremely skilled 
In speech and judgement o'er his fellow men, 
When weighed in wisdom's balance, is found 

wantingr--/ 
It cannot shame a mortal, though most wise, 
To learn much from experience, and in much 
Submit. Thou seest the pliant trees, that bow 
Beneath the rushing torrent, rise unstripped ; 
But all that stem erect its onward course, 
Uprooted fall and perish. So the pilot, 
Who with full sail meets strong-opposing blasts, 
O'ersets his bark, and on the shivered planks 
Floats on the random wave. Pause — quell thy 

wrath — 
Unbend to softer feelings. If one ray 



ANTIGONE. 255 

Of wisdom's light my younger breast illume, 
I deem the man, whose vast expansive mind 
Grasps the whole sphere of knowledge — noblest far; 
But, since such boon is rare, the second praise 
Is this, to learn from those whose words are wise. 
Ch. If he hath spoken wisely, my good Lord, 
Tis fit to weigh his reasoning. Thou, too, youth, 

[To HiEMON. 

Regard thy father's. Both have argued well. 

Cr. And must we stoop, in this our cooler age, 
Thus to be lessoned by a beardless boy ? 

Hcz. Not stoop to learn injustice. I am young. 
But thou shouldst weigh mine actions, not my years. 

Cr. Thou deem'st it justice, then, to favour rebels 1 

Hce. Ne'er would I ask thy favour for the guilty. 

Cr. Is not this maiden stained with manifest guilt? 

Hce. The general voice of Thebes repels the 
charge. 

Cr. Shall then the city dictate laws to me 1 

Hce. Do not thy words betray a very youth ? 

Cr. Should I or should another sway the state ? 

Hce. That is no state, which crouches to one 
despot ! 

Cr. Is not a monarch master of his state ? 

Hce. How nobly wouldst thou lord it o'er a desert \ 



256 ANTIGONE. 

Cr. Behold, I pray you, how this doughty warrior 
Strives in a woman's cause. 

H<z. Art thou a woman ? 
I strive for none, save thee. 

Cr. Oh thou most vile ! 
Wouldst thou withstand thy father ? 

Ha. When I see 
My father swerve from justice. 

Cr. Do I err, 
Revering mine own laws ? 

Hce. Dost thou revere them, 
When thou wouldst trample on the laws of Heaven? 

Cr. O thou degenerate wretch ! thou woman's 
slave ! 

Hce. Ne'er shalt thou find me the vile slave of 
baseness. 

Cr. Still, as it seems, his words are all for her. 

Hce. For thee, for me, and for th' Infernal Gods. 

Cr. Thou ne'er shalt wed her living. 

Hce. If she die, 
Her death shall crush another. 

Cr. Daring villain ! 
Dost thou proceed to threats ? 

Hce. And does he threat, 
Who but refutes vain counsels ? 



ANTIGONE. 257 

Cr. At thy cost 
Shalt thou reprove me, void thyself of sense. 

Hce. Now, but thou art my father, I would say 
That thou art most unwise. 

Cr. Hence, woman's slave ! 
And prate no more to me. 

Hce. Wouldst thou then speak 
Whate'er thou list, and not endure reply ? 

Cr. Aye, is it true ? Then, by Olympian 
Jove, 
I swear thou shalt not beard me thus unpunished ! 
Ho ! bring that hated thing, that she may die, 
E'en in the presence of her doting bridegroom. 

Hce. Believe it not. Before mine eyes, at least, 
She shall not die, nor thou such dream indulge ; 
I quit thy sight for ever. They who list 
May stand the tame spectators of thy madness. 

[Exit H^EMON. 



CREON, CHORUS. 

Ch. The youth has passed, my Lord, in desperate 
wrath. 



258 ANTIGONE. 

A soul like his may rush from rankling grief 
To deeds of frenzy. 

Cr. Let him do, and dare 
Beyond the power of man, he shall not save 
These virgins from the death. 

Ch. Dost thou then purpose 
An equal doom for both ? 

Cr. No ; not for her 
"Who hath not touched the corpse. Thy words 
are just. 

Ch. What death dost thou design her 1 

Cr. To a spot 
By mortal foot untrodden, will I lead her ; 
And deep immure her in a rocky cave, 
Leaving enough of sustenance to provide 
A due atonement, that the state may shun 
Pollution from her death. There let her call 
On gloomy Hades, the sole Power she owns, 
To shield her from her doom ; or learn, though late, 
At least this lesson ; 'tis a bootless task 
To render homage to the Powers of Hell. 



ANTIGONE. 259 



Chi 



STROPHE. 

Love ! unsubdued, unconquerable Love ! 

On wealth descending; 5 — whose repose 

Is in the virgin's cheeks of rose; — 

Alike o'er trackless ocean dost thou rove, 

Or 'mid the lowly dwellings of the grove. 

None of th' Immortals throned on high, 

From thy pervading power can fly ; 

Nor man, frail being of a fleeting day ! 

The heart that feels thee yields to frenzy's sway. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Thy spells delusive turn the just aside 
To baseness — and attendant shame ; 
Thine arts this mortal strife inflame 
In men, by nature's dearest ties allied. 
From the soft glances of his lovely bride 



s " On wealth descending." In the original, o? ew* xtj?/x»o-» 
iriirren, the true signification of which has tortured and ex- 
hausted the ingenuity of the commentators. 

s 2 



260 ANTIGONE. 

Revealed, desire subdues his soul ; 

Desire, usurping high control 

O'er Heaven's primordial laws ; matchless in might 

6 In sport like this fair Venus takes delight. 

[Antigone is brought in guarded. 

I, too, beyond controlling laws 

Am hurried ; for I cannot check 

The gushing tears, as I behold 

Antigone thus borne away 

To share our common couch, the joyless tomb. 



ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
STROPHE I. 

Ant. Behold me, Princes of my native land ! 
Treading the last sad path, 
And gazing on the latest beam 
Of yon resplendent sun — 
To gaze no more for ever ! The stern hand 



Sic visum Veneri ; cui placet impares 
Formas atque animos sub juga ahenea 

Saevo mittere cum joco. — Hor. Lib. I. Od. 33. 



ANTIGONE. 261 

Of all-entombing Death 
Impels me — living still — 
To Acheron's bleak shore — ungraced 
By nuptial rites ; — no hymeneal strain 
Hath hymned my hour of bliss, 
And joyless Death will be my bridegroom now. 
Ch. Therefore, with endless praise renowned, 
To those drear regions wilt thou pass ; 
Unwasted aught by slow disease, 
Un wounded by avenging sword. 
Spontaneous, living, sole of mortal birth, 
Shalt thou to Death descend. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Ant. Yes ! I have heard by how severe a doom 
The Phrygian stranger died 
On Sipylus' bleak brow sublime ; 
Whom, in its cold embrace, 
The creeping rock, like wreathing ivy, strained. 
Her, in chill dews dissolved, 
As antique legends tell, 
Ne'er do th' exhaustless snows desert, 
Nor from her eyes do trickling torrents cease 
To gush. A doom like her's, 
Alas, how like ! hath fate reserved for me. 



262 ANTIGONE. 

Ch. A Goddess she, and sprung from Gods ;— 
We, mortal as our fathers were. 
What matchless fame is thine ! to fall like those 
Of ancestry divine ! 

STROPHE II. 

Ant. Ah me ! I am derided. Why, oh why, 
By my ancestral Gods, 
Why do ye mock me, ere the tomb 
Hath veiled me from your sight ? 
O my loved Thebes ! and ye, 
Her lordly habitants ! 

ye Dircsean streams ! 

Thou sacred grove of car-compelling Thebes ! 

1 here invoke you to attest my wrongs, 

How, by my friends unwept, and by what laws, 

I sink into the caverned gloom 

Of this untimely sepulchre ! 

Me miserable ! 

Outcast from earth, and from the tomb, 

I am not of the living or the dead. 

Ch. Hurried to daring's wild excess, 
Deeply, my daughter, hast thou sinned 
Against th' exalted Throne of Right. 
The woes that crushed thy father, fall on thee. 



ANTIGONE. 263 



ANTISTROPHE II. 

Ant. Ah ! thou hast probed mine anguish to the 
quick, 
The source of all my pangs, 
My father's widely-blazoned fate ; 
And the long train of ills, 
Which crushed, in one wide wreck, 
The famed Labdacidas ! 
Woe for the withering curse 
Of those maternal nuptials, which impelled 
My sire, unconscious, to a parent's couch ! 
From whom I sprung, by birth a very wretch : 
To whom accursed, unwedded, now 
I sink to share their drear abode. 
Alas, my brother ! 

Ill-omened were thy nuptials ! Thou, 
Though dead, dost hurl me, living, to the tomb. 

Ch. Religion bids us grace the dead ; 
But might, when regal might bears sway, 
Must never, never, be contemned. 
Thine own unbending pride hath sealed thy doom. 

Ant. Unmourned, unfriended, 'reft of bridal joys, 
Despairingly I tread 
The path too well prepared. 



264 ANTIGONE. 

No more for ever must I hail thy beams, 
Thou glad and holy sun ! 
Yet to my doom no sorrowing friend accords 
The tribute of a tear. 

Enter Creon. 



CREON, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 

Or. What, know ye not, that none, ere death 

arrive, 
Would ever cease their plaints, could words avail 

them ? 
Instant conduct her hence • and, as I bade, 
Immure her in the deep sepulchral cave ; 
There leave her lone and desolate, or to die 
Or live imprisoned in that drear abode. 
We from her death shall thus be pure ; and she 
Shall hold no more communion with the living. 
Ant. O tomb ! O bridal bed ! O dark abode ! 
My ever-during prison ! whither now 
I sink to join my kindred, a sad train, 
Whom Proserpine among the silent dead 
Hath long received ; — of whom the last in time, 
The first in sorrow, I to Death descend, 



ANTIGONE. 265 

Ere mine allotted earthly term be past. 
Yet e'en in death I cherish one warm hope, 
That dear to my loved father I shall come, > 
Dear to thee, mother ! and most dear to thee, 
My brother ! for in death my hand received you, 
Your relics laved, your lifeless limbs composed, 
And o'er your tomb libations poured. And now, 
Dear Polynices, I have honoured thee 
With funeral rites, and thus do they requite me. 
Yet will not justice blame my pious care ; 
Since, had I been a mother or a wife, 
And my loved child or wedded lord had lain 
Unsepulchred on earth, not e'en for them 
Would I have braved the state to do this deed. 
Ask ye what motive sways me thus to think ? 
Had but my husband or my child been slain, 
7 Haply I might have wed another lord, 



7 Our English ladies are entreated to make allowance for a 
mode of thinking - and reasoning so opposite to their own, A 
similar principle, according to Herodotus, was acted upon 
by the wife of Intaphernes, a noble Persian, who, when al- 
lowed by Darius to save from death whichever of her kindred 
she preferred, selected her brother, for precisely the same 
reason as that assigned to Antigone. 



266 ANTIGONE. 

Or joyed in other children ; but the tomb 

Hath closed above my parents, and from hence 

A brother could no more be born to me. 

Since, swayed by thoughts like these, I honoured 

thee 
Beyond all other kindred, dearest brother, 
This Creon counts me guilty and perverse : 
And now he leads me with remorseless hand, 
Severed from nuptial joys, and bridal hymns, 
And wedlock's dearest bliss, a mother's pride, 
In the fond nurture of a smiling offspring ; 
But friendless now, deserted, desolate, 
I seek in life the dwellings of the dead. 
Which of your laws,ye Powers, have I transgressed ? — 
Yet wherefore do I turn me to the Gods ? — 
Whom shall I call to aid me, since I meet 
For pious deeds the vengeance of the guilty ? 
If acts like these are sanctioned by the Gods, 
I will address me to my doom in silence ; 
If not, and these offend, may Heaven requite 
On them such evils as they wreak on me. 

Ch. The same wild storms of frenzied rage 
Distract th' unhappy maiden still. 

Or. For this the lingering slaves ere long 
Shall learn in tears to mourn their vain delay. 



ANTIGONE. 267 

Ant. Alas ! death cannot be dissevered far 
From that appalling threat. 

Cr. Aye, I would warn thee not to hope 
The doom, once sealed, may be reversed. 

Ant. O Thebes, proud city of my sires ! 
O tutelary Gods ! 

They force me hence, and respite is denied. 
Behold, ye rulers of imperial Thebes, 
The last sad daughter of a royal line, 
What fearful wrongs I suffer, and from whom ; — 
My only crime a pious deed. 

[Antigone is led off. Exit Creon. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Thus, long in brazen cell immured, 

To change day's genial light for cheerless gloom. 

To pine enshrouded in a living tomb, 
Fair Danae erst endured ; — 
Yet, O my child ! my child ! of lineage high 

She came, and to immortal Jove 

Cherished the golden pledge of love ; — 
But matchless is the might of destiny : 



268 ANTIGONE. 

8 Nor storm, nor martial might, nor stately tower, 
Nor wave-repelling fleets escape the tameless Power. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

So Dryas' haughty son was bound, 

Edonia's Lord, for words of wrathful pride, 
Chained by th' 9 Avenging Power his taunts defied 

In rocky cave profound ; — 

And thus the venom of his maddening breast 
Still flows afresh. Too late he knew 
How rage had fired him to pursue 

A God with keen reproach. His wrath repressed 



8 On this passage an ingenious conjectural emendation 
is proposed by Erfurdt, o*j3o? for o/*0go« ; — a conjecture, as he 
justly remarks, not only recommended by its accordance with 
the general sense of the sentence, but by a parallel passage, of 
exactly similar construction, in Bacchylides. 

OvaToij a ovk a,v$a.ipiroi 
w Out'"OABO£, out' axa/A^To? "APH2 

Ovrt 7rap.(pQzg?is o-Ta<TK-~«^A' ew*%pif*WT6» 
N/ipo; olhXoT W aXKccv yuv 

A <Ka.vou£0<; Alaa. 

9 Th' avenging Power. 'E* Aiowo-x, by Bacchus. The 
story of Lycurgus, who was punished by Bacchus for expel- 
ling the Bacchanalians from his territories, is differently rela- 
ted by various authors. 



ANTIGONE. 269 

The raving Virgins ; — quenched the Evcean fire ; — 
And mocked with impious taunts the Sisters of the 

Lyre. 

STROPHE II. 

Where the Cyanean rocks divide 
In double sea the rushing tide, 
And rise the high Bosphorean shores, 
And Thracian Salmydessus towers; 
There Mars, the guardian of the realms around, 
Beheld a raging I0 step-dame's deadly deed. 
He saw your mangled eyeballs bleed, 
O sons of Phineus ! by that fatal wound 
Consigned to night profound ! — 
That wound, alas ! no spear of warrior brave, 
But woman's blood-stained hand, and woman's 
weapon gave. 



10 Phineus married Cleopatra, the daughter of Boreas and 
Orithyia, by whom he had two sons, Crambis and Orythus. 
He afterwards repudiated her, and married Idaia, who put 
out the eyes of Crambis and Orythus. Cleopatra, to escape 
her cruelty, concealed herself among the rocks, where she 
died. To this circumstance the Chorus" alludes.— -Potter. 



270 ANTIGONE. 



ANTISTROPHE II. 

Pining in anguish and in gloom, 

They mourned their mother's hapless doom ; 

Wedded with evil omens she 

To bear a wretched progeny ! 

She sprung from high Erectheus' ancient seed, — 

Yet, ah ! though nursed where wild in dreary cave, 

Storms of her father Boreas rave, 

Bounding o'er lofty hills, her winged speed 

Outstripped the fiery steed ; — 

What recked her race of Gods ? Their firm decree, 

On her the Fates fulfilled, my daughter ! as on thee. 

Enter Tiresias, conducted by a Youth. 



TIRESIAS, CREON, CHORUS. 

Ti. Princes of Thebes, we tread our wonted path, 
One sight directing both ; this mode alone 
Remains to guide the wanderings of the blind. 

Cr. Hath aught occurred of import new or strange, 
Aged Tiresias ? 



ANTIGONE. 271 

Ti. I will tell thee, King ! 
Do thou obey the Prophet. 

Cr, Never yet 
Thy warning did I slight. 

Ti. Thence hast thou steered 
Aright the helm of empire. 

Cr. I confess 
Thy counsels oft have led me to success. 

Ti. Then heed them now. Thou art in desperate 
peril. 

Cr. What mean'st thou ? — how I tremble at thy 
words ! 

Ti. List, and the symbols of mine art shall tell 
thee. 
When on mine ancient stool of augury, 
Where every bird flocks round me, I sat down, 
Burst on mine ear a strange unwonted sound 
Of birds, with shrill and dissonant screamings wild, 
While with ensanguined talons I perceived 
They tore each other ; this the flapping hoarse 
Of wings betokened plainly. Struck with awe, 
I next essayed the hallowed fires that burn 
On the high blazing altars ; but the flame 
Refused to shine upon the sacrifice ; 
And, oozing from the limbs, the vapour flowed 



272 ANTIGONE. 

Mid the loose ashes, where it fumed and hissed ; 

The swollen entrails were dispersed ; the thighs, 

Stripped of th' involving caul, lay bare around. 

These fearful signs of import strange and dire 

I learned from mine attendant — he recounts 

To me the symbols I explain to others. 

'Tis thy relentless soul that plagues thy country. 

Our sacred altars and domestic hearths 

Are strewed by dogs and birds with their foul prey, 

The corpse of GEdipus' ill-fated son ; 

For this the Gods reject our hallowed rites, 

Our prayers, and votive victims,— while the birds, 

Sated with human flesh and human blood, 

Can only utter sounds of omen dire. 

Therefore, my son, consider ; since to err 

Is common to mankind ; nor is that man 

Unhappy or unwise, who, when betrayed 

To error, mourns his lapse, and doth not cleave 

Inflexible to ill. Know, stubbornness^ 

Doth ever argue folly. To the dead 

Give way, nor trample on a fallen foe — 

What courage needs it to insult the lifeless ? 

I speak with soul benevolent to thee ; 

'Tis sweet to learn from one who counsels well, 

If he regard our welfare. 



ANTIGONE. 273 

Or. Aye, old man, 
I am your butt ; ye all, like archers, aim 
Your wily shafts at me. I know you well, 
The venal tribe of prophets, and by them 
Too oft have I been bartered and betrayed. 
Go on ; pursue your traffic, and acquire 
The Sardian amber and the Indian gold, 
If so ye list ; but never shall ye shroud 
This wretch within the tomb, though Jove's swift 

bird 
Should bear the mouldering relics as his prey, 
E'en to th' eternal throne. Yea, though I feared 
Pollution dire as this, I would not yield 
To honour him with sepulture • — well I know 
That none of mortal birth can e'er pollute 
The holy Gods ! And mark me, old Tiresias ! 
Oft do the sagest of our race incur 
The vilest shame, when, lured by sordid gain, 
They clothe base counsels in the garb of honour. 

Ti. Ha i is there one who knows — who thinks — 

Cr. What wouldst thou ? 
Are these thy words addressed alike to all ? 

Ti. How much is wisdom man's most precious ~c 
treasure ? 

Cr. So much, as folly is his greatest bane! A 

VOL. I. T 



274 ANTIGONE. 

Ti. It is, in truth, a malady which seems 
Conspicuous in thy conduct. 

Cr. I forbear 
To shame the Prophet with a keen retort. 

Ti. Yet this thou dost in charging me with 
falsehood. 

Cr. Ah ! ye are fond of gold, ye tribe of prophets. 

Ti. The tribe of tyrants seems indeed to love 
Dishonourable gains. 

Cr. Know'st thou thy words 
Are spoken to thy Monarch ? 

Ti. Aye, I know it ; 
'Twas by my counsels thou didst save thine empire. 

Cr. Thou art a skilful prophet, but too prone 
To deeds of baseness. 

Ti. Wilt thou then provoke me 
To speak the awful secrets of my soul ? 

Cr. Well, speak them, so thou dost not ask 
reward. 

Ti. And seem I, in thy judgement, to demand it? 

Cr. Know first, thou shalt not traffic in my 
purpose. 

Ti. And know thou, too, proud Monarch, ere 
the car 
Of yon bright sun shall oft his course fulfil, 



ANTIGONE. 275 

Thou of thine own loved offspring shalt repay 

A just and equal ransom, dead for dead, 

For one whom thou hast plunged from upper air 

To dwell beneath, whom to the dark abodes, 

Yet living, thou hast doomed ; nor less for one, 

Whom of the honours due to Hell's dread Powers, 

Of funeral rites, of sacred obsequies, 

Thou hast bereft. Here no concern hast thou, 

None have the Heavenly Powers ; but thou hast 

wrought 
These shameless deeds by lawless violence. 
Wherefore the sure Avengers, who pursue 
The track of Guilt, the Furies of the Shades, 
Are ambushed round thy path, and soon will plunge 

thee 
In ruin hopeless as thy rage inflicted. 
Mark now, if gold hath bribed me thus to presage; — 
Pass but a few short moments, and the shriek 
Of men, and wail of women, through thy halls 
Shall ring ; and all the hostile states, whose slain 
The dogs, and beasts, and ravening birds, have torn, 
Wafting their noisome odours o'er the plain, 
Shall rise against thee. Such, then, are the shafts, 
Which, archer-like, my hand hath now discharged, 
For thou hast roused my wrath ; and from the wound 

t 2 



276 ANTIGONE. 

These shafts inflict, thou wilt not find relief. 
Boy, lead me to my home ; and leave yon Tyrant 
To vent his impotent rage on younger heads ; 
And let him learn to curb his tongue to silence, 
And hold a wiser mind than now he holds. 

[Exeunt Tiresias and Youth. 



CREON, CHORUS. 

Ch. The prophet hath departed, O my Lord, 
Denouncing dread events ; and well I know, 
Since time's long round hath silvered my dark locks, 
The state hath never proved his presage faithless. 

Cr. I know it too; and therefore doubts distractme. 
To yield bespeaks a coward, yet I fear 
To rush upon destruction, if I cross him. 

Ch. Son of Menceceus, thou hast need of 
prudence. 

Cr. Whatwouldst thou have me do? Give thine 
advice, 
And I will straight obey it. 

Ch. Then away ! — 
Release the virgin from her rock-hewn cave, 
And grace th' unburied corpse with sepulture. 



ANTIGONE. 277 

Cr. Is this thy counsel? Dost thou bid me yield? 

Ch. Without delay, my Lord ! Th' avenging curse 
Of Heaven is swift to crush the disobedient. 

Cr. O but 'tis hard ; — yet I must fain submit — 
To war with stern Necessity were madness. 

Ch. Haste, then, perform thy purpose, nor entrust 
The task to others. 

Cr. With all speed I fly- 
Haste — haste— attendants ! ye who here await, 
And ye too at a distance ; — haste — and bring 
Keen axes in your hands — fly to the cave — 
I too, since my first sentence is repealed, 
Who bound, will now release her ; for I fear 
That, while we live, 'twill prove our truest wisdom 
To venerate th' eternal laws of Justice. 

[Exit Ore on with Attendants. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

O Thou, by countless names renowned, 



1 The names of Bacchus, which were numerous, were de- 
rived chiefly from his attributes. Thus, he was called Lyaeus, 



278 ANTIGONE. 

Pride of the Theban nymph, and progeny 

Of Jove, whose thunders rend the sky ! 

Who with thy favouring presence dost surround 

* Italia's far-famed clime, and reign 

O'er Ceres' general bosom, the rich plain 

Of fair Eleusis — Bacchus, King divine ! 

Who dwell'stin Thebes, thy fair and favoured shrine ; 

Thebes, mother-town of Bacchanals, where flows 

Ismenus, and from earth the dragon-seed arose;— 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

3 Thee saw the heaven-ascending fire, 

Which fierce and far from forked Parnassus glowed ; 

Where to their tutelary God 

Roam in wild orgies the Corycian choir, 

And springs the pure Castalian fount; — 

Thee saw the vine-clad slopes of Nysa's mount 

Crowned with enwreathing ivy, where to Thee 

Breathe strains of more than mortal melody; 



from \la, because wine opens the heart (aperit praecordia 
Liber) ; Lenseus, from Knv-n, a wine-press, &c. 

a The Tuscans were great observers of the worship of 
Bacchus. 

3 Euripides also mentions this fire, which was supposed to 
announce the presence of the God on Mount Parnassus. 



ANTIGONE. 279 

Echoing through groves of rich-empurpled vine, 
To hail the Lord of Thebes, her honoured King 
divine ; — 

STROPHE II. 

Thebes, whose illustrious name 
By Thee with noblest honours is approved, 
Nor by thy beauteous Mother less beloved, 
The lightning-stricken dame. — 
Yet now, alas ! a dire disease pervades 
The drooping city. Come, O come, 
With life-imparting step, o'er sylvan shades 
Clothing Parnassus' sloping sides in gloom, 
Or o'er the sounding gulf where echoing billows 
foam ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Prince of each silver star, 

That breathes through darkness its celestial light; — 
Lord of the train, who on the ear of night 
Swell their wild hymns afar ; — 
Blest youth ! high offspring of Eternal Jove ! 
Haste, and thy fair attendants bring, 
Those Naxian nymphs the livelong night who 
rove, 



280 ANTIGONE. 

Dancing around thy throne in festive ring, 
And shout Iacehus' name, their leader and their 
King. 



MESSENGER, CHORUS. 

Mess. Inhabitants of Thebes, where Cadmus erst 
And old Amphion reigned, I know not how, 
Whate'er it be, to censure or to praise 
The varying life of man ; — since Fortune still 
Lifts, at her will, th' unhappy from the dust, 
Or dooms again the prosperous to despair, 
Nor can prophetic skill divine the future. 
I deemed the royal Creon greatly blessed, 
Who from her foes the Theban state preserved ; 
Assumed the sole dominion of her realms ; 
Bore sway, and flourished in a generous race. 
And now all — all is lost. For when the joys, 
The sweet delights of life are reft for ever, 
I scarce can say man lives ; — though still he breathe, 
4 The soul of life is fled. Heap, if thou wilt, 



4 Literally, i^vyjyj ■nywpau vutgov, I account him a breathing- 
corpse. 



ANTIGONE. 281 

Vast treasures in thy house, and live enthroned 
In regal splendour ; yet to this thy pomp, 
If the heart's joy be wanting, all beside 
I would not purchase with th' illusive cloud 
Of unsubstantial smoke. 
Ch. Of what new ills 
Com'st thou a herald to the royal house ? 

Mess. They are no more — those live who caused 

their ruin. 
Ch. Say, who hath wrought the deed, and who 

hath perished ? 
Mess. Bathed in his blood, the lifeless Hsemon 

lies. 
Ch. Slain by his own rash hand, or by his father's ? 
Mess. Incensed against his father, for the death 
Of his loved bride, by his own hand he fell. 

Ch. How true, O prophet, was thy fearful 

presage ! 
Mess. Since it is thus, the rest demands our 

thought. 
Ch. But lo ! I see the King's unhappy wife, 
Eurydice, approach us ; in the palace 
She heard us name her son, or comes by chance. 

Enter Eurydice. 



282 ANTIGONE. 



EURYDICE, MESSENGER, CHORUS. 

Eu. Your conference we have heard, O citizens, 
As we came forth, departing to prefer 
Our suppliant prayers in chaste Athena's shrine. 
While yet my hand was loosening the firm bars 
Which close our palace-gates, the whispered voice 
Of some domestic evil met mine ear ; — 
Trembling I sunk amidst my maids supine, 
With sudden terror lifeless. Yet again 
I bid thee tell thy tale — for I shall hear it, 
Not unexperienced in severest woes. 

Mess. As present there, dear Lady, all the tale 
Will I disclose, nor aught of truth disguise. 
Why should I soothe thee with evasive words, 
When time must prove their falsehood and mine own? 
The truth is ever best. Thy royal Lord 
I, as his guide, attended to the verge 
Of that far plain, where torn by ravening dogs 
The corpse of Polynices lay defiled. 
Here, first invoking Hecate, and the King 
Of Hades, that by prayers propitiate now 
They would avert their wrath, in the pure stream 



ANTIGONE. 283 

We laved the relics, — on a recent pyre 

Of boughs consumed them, and upreared a mound 

Of his loved natal earth. We next repaired 

To the sepulchral cave, the bridal couch 

Of her espoused to Death. But of our train 

A murmur of deep wailing from afar 

Round that unhonoured tomb one haply heard, 

And hastening told our Monarch. He approached, 

And still the muttered moanings on his ear 

Smote louder and less doubtful, till he groaned 

In bitter agony, and thus sighed forth — 

" Unhappy me ! And is my presage true, 

" And do I tread the most ill-omened path 

" Of all my pilgrimage ? It is the voice 

" Of mine own son that meets me ! Haste, oh haste, 

" Attendants, to the sepulchre, and remove 

" The rock's obstructing barrier ; look within ;- — 

" I hear the voice of Hsemon, of my son, 

" Or am by Heaven deluded." We obeyed 

The bidding of our half distracted Lord, 

And looked. Soon in the cavern's dim recess 

We see the virgin — lifeless — hanging there 

In noose enwoven of her linen robe. 

There too lay Hsemon, clasping his pale bride, 

Mourning his plighted consort, to the Powers 



284 ANTIGONE. 

Of Hell espoused — his father's act severe — 
And his most joyless nuptials. When the King 
Beheld him, deeply sighing — to the tomb 
Entering, with loud lament he thus exclaimed : 
" O my unhappy child, what hast thou done ? 
" What fearful purpose sways thee ? By what woes 
" Art thou thus plunged in anguish? O my son 
" Come forth, a suppliant father here conjures thee." 
But on his sire he turned his glaring eyes 
With the stern air of mingled hate and scorn, 
s Nor answer deigned, but bared his two-edged brand ; 
The King by flight evaded, and the blow 
Fell impotent. Then the distracted youth, 
Indignant with himself, stretched out the sword, 
And sheathed it in his bosom. Conscious still 
Around the lifeless maid his arms he threw 
With fond embrace, and, breathing his last sigh, 



5 This act of Haemon is censured by Aristotle as cause- 
less and unnatural. May it not, however, be urged in de- 
fence of the Poet, that a sudden impulse, on the first and 
unexpected sight of the author of his woes, might urge the 
unhappy youth to a deed of desperation; particularly since he 
does not persevere in the attempt, but, as though in ungo- 
vernable distraction and remorse, immediately turns his fury 
upon himself? 



ANTIGONE. 285 

Tinged her pale cheek with crimson, for the blood 

Came gushing with the fluttering sob of death ; 

And lifeless now he sleeps beside the dead, 

In Hell's dark gloom his nuptial rites completing, 

A solemn, sad example to mankind, 

How great an evil is unbridled rashness. 

[Exit Eurydice. 



CHORUS, MESSENGER. 

Ch. What dost thou judge from this? The Queen 
is gone 
Without one word of patience, or despair. 

Mess. I too am lost in wonder— but I still 
Indulge a hope ; that, learning thus the doom 
Of her lost son, she will not deign to wail 
Throughout the city, but retired within, 
Will vent her grief in secret with her maidens. 
She is more prudent than to err in this. 

Ch. I know not — yet I like not this deep silence, 
It bodes some dark resolve — more clamorous grief ^ 
Vents all its force in words . 

Mess. Soon shall we learn 
If aught so desperate lurks within her breast, 



286 ANTIGONE. 

By hastening to the palace ; well thou say'st 
Deep silence is the herald of destruction. 
Ch. And lo ! the King himself appears, 
Bearing the sad memorials of his woe 
6 Within his arms ; if we may justly speak, 
He is the author of his own despair ! 

Enter Creon, bearing his Sons body. 



CREON, MESSENGER, CHORUS. 
STROPHE I. 

Cr. Woe for the errors of a frenzied mind, 
Ruthless and fraught with death ! 
O mark, in kindred ties allied, 
The slayers and the slain ! 
Such of my counsels is the bitter fruit ! 
Alas ! for thee, my son, my son, 
Who, in youth's vernal prime 
Art perished, and hast fled, 
Through mine insensate rashness, not thine own. 

6 The entrance of Creon, bearing his son's corpse, will 
doubtless remind the reader of that scene in Shakspeare, 
where Lear comes in, carrying in his arms the lifeless body 
of Cordelia. 



ANTIGONE. 287 

Ch. Alas ! how late dost thou acknowledge, King-, 
The justice of the Gods. 

STROPHE II. 

Cr. Ah me ! I learn it in mine own despair. 
Then, then upon my head the wrath divine 
Smote heaviest — to perdition urged me on, 
And trod my joys in dust. Alas ! the toils ! 
The hapless toils of man ! 

Enter Second Messenger. 
2d Mess. Sorrows are deepening round thee, O 
my Lord ; — 
One source of bitterest grief thy hands sustain, 
One waits within which thou must soon behold. 
Cr. What yet remains to dreg the cup of sor- 
row? 
2d Mess. Thy Queen, the mother of this lifeless 
youth, 
Hath died, unhappy, by a recent wound. 

antistrophe i. 
Cr. Oh ! thou inexpiable home of death, 
Why dost thou crush me thus ? — 
O herald of o'erwhelming woes 
What horrors dost thou bring ? — 



288 ANT1G0JM E. 

Why, why press down a wretch already lost ? 
What hast thou said ? what new despair, 
Redoubling- woes on woes ? — 
And to a murdered son 

Dost thou then add my wife's destruction too? — 
2d Mess. 7 Thou mayst behold her, now no 
more, within. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Cr. Alas ! I gaze upon a second woe. 
What doom, ah ! what awaits the victim still ? 
In these sad hands a lifeless son I bear, 
There mark another recent corpse — Woe ! woe ! 
Sad mother ! wretched son ! 

2d. Mess. Before the hallowed altars, in wild wrath 
She fell— and closed her eyes in Death's dull 

night, 
Deploring first indeed th' illustrious bed 
Of 8 Megareus — long since to death consigned ; 

7 The scene here opens, and discloses to view the remains 
of the Queen. 

8 Commentators do not agree respecting this Megareus. 
Some make him a former husband of Eurydice ; others sup- 
pose him to have been the same wiih Menoeceus, son of Creon 
and Eurydice, whose patriotism and death are related in the 
Phoenissre of Euripides. 



ANTIGONE. 289 

Then this her hapless son, — last on thy head 
She imprecated curses, and proclaimed thee 
The murderer of thy child ! 



STROPHE III. 

Cr. Woe ! woe is me ! 
I quake with horror. Will no friendly hand 
In mercy plunge deep, deep the two-edged sword ? 
I am a very wretch, 

Condemned to struggle with o'er-mastering woes ! 
2d Mess. Ere yet she perished, with her parting 
breath, 
She charged on thee the fatal doom of both. 

Cr. And by what means did death relieve her 

sorrows ? 
2d Mess. Deep in her side she buried the keen 
sword, 
Soon as her son's lamented doom she heard. 



STROPHE IV. 

Cr. Wretch that I am ! the guilt is all mine own, 
None shared the deadly deed ! 
I am alone the blood-stained homicide ; 
'Tis all too clear O ! lead me hence, 

vol. i. u 



290 ANTIGONE. 

Attendants, bear me hence ! away — away — 
For I am nothing now ! 

Ch. Well dost thou judge, if in despair like thine 
Aught can be well, for heaviest evils press 
With lighter burden, when from sight removed. 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

Or. Come, then, O come, 
Shine forth, thou last and lightest of my woes, 
Bringing the final and most welcome hour 
Of suffering ! Come, O come, 
That I may view the light of Heaven no more. 

Ch. These cares respect the future — first befits 
To weigh with prudent thought the present crisis. 
Let those direct on whom such charge devolves. 

Or. What most my soul desires, I did but make 
My first and warmest prayer. 

Ch. Pray now for nothing — 
There is no refuge for devoted man,\ 
When fate consigns him to a doom of woe. 

ANTISTROPHE IV. 

Cr. Lead hence this lifeless shade, far, far away. 
Who, though unwilling all, 
Slew thee, my son ! thee, too, O wife beloved ! 



ANTIGONE. 291 

Ah ! wretch ! I know not where to look, 
Or whither fly. All are against me now — 
Fate is itself my foe. 

Ch. There is no guide to happiness on earth,- 
Save wisdom • nor behoves it us to fail 
In reverence to the Gods ! High-sounding vaunts 
Inflict due vengeance on the haughty head, 
And teach late wisdom to its dark old age. 



END OF VOL. i. 



MARCIUXT, PfUNTER, I N G R AM-COU RT, T ENCHURCH-STREET. 



THE 



TRAGEDIES OF SOPHOCLES, 



TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. 



BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE, B.A. 

OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 
VOL. II. 



LONDON : 
J. M. RICHARDSON, CORNHILL. 

1824. 



TRACHINLE. 



VOL. II. 



TRACHINLE. 



It has been remarked by Aristotle, that iEschylus 
painted men greater than they can be, Sophocles 
such as they ought to be, and Euripides such as 
they are. This encomium, though most applicable 
and appropriate in reference to those characters of 
the dramas of Sophocles which are strictly human 
personages, cannot in justice be extended either to 
his Heroes or his Deities. Hercules, in the fol- 
lowing tragedy, constitutes as indifferent a specimen 
of the heroic character as Minerva, in the Ajax, 
presents of the divine. The son of Jove, notwith- 
standing his celestial extraction and destined exal- 

b 2 



4 TRACHINI^. 

tation, is represented to us as enslaved by the 
most abject and degrading of all human weaknesses. 
He is indeed a practical exemplification of the 
Anacreontic sentiment, 

xaTvXo? 

'Avt o/.tririowv u'TrataZt, 
Arr ly^iuv caruvruv. 

and unites to the most abandoned licentiousness 
the qualities of gross intemperance and unrelenting 
cruelty; for no greater provocation than because 
a father had refused to deliver up his daughter to 
the secret embraces of a brutal violator, this fa- 
vourite of Heaven, this scourge of tyrants and 
oppressors, invades an unoffending state, levels its 
capital with the dust, slays its monarch, and con- 
signs its inhabitants to a miserable captivity. Re- 
serving for the most infamous purposes the daugh- 
ter of the King whom he has murdered, he insults 
his father Jove by offering at his shrine the trophies 
of successful villany. Such is a true portrait of 
the most celebrated hero of ancient mythology; 
and such a delineation may well convince us, that 
the bard, who could duly appreciate the excellen- 



trachinle. 5 

cies of the human character, was utterly unable to 
estimate the perfections of the divine. 

Yet it is not intended, by these observations, to 
impeach either the judgement or the discretion 
of the poet. The gross and glaring defects of this 
drama are attributable, not to the writer, but to 
the age. Whatever abstract opinion the genius of 
Sophocles might have formed respecting the cha- 
racter of a hero, he would be compelled, in the 
delineation of an individual personage, to consider 
the prejudices and prepossessions of his audience. 
The Athenians, who knew what was right, would 
gladly plead the example of their heroes and 
divinities, to excuse them from practising it. And, 
whatever may be asserted to the contrary by the 
admirers of antiquity, it is an irrefutable fact, 
that with all the refinement and elegance of Athens 
was mingled, even at the most flourishing period of 
its existence, a degree of barbarism almost in- 
conceivable. 

Leaving these remarks, which are perhaps some- 
what irrelevant, let us descend from the hero to the 
woman, from the licentious and implacable Her- 



6 TRACHINI^. 

cules to the chaste and affectionate Deianira, and 
we shall again recognise, in all its vigour and 
beauty, the transcendant genius of Sophocles. 
Here, at least, all is natural, becoming, and con- 
sistent. The lively exultation of the unhappy 
Queen at the intelligence of her Lord's triumph, 
and the promise of his return -; — that mournful pre- 
sage of the instability of all human transport, 
which is so exquisitely represented as stealing 
over her at the sight of the unhappy captives ; — 
her generous compassion for Iole's sorrows, so well 
preparing us to sympathise with her own ; — the 
hurried agony in which she resolves on sending the 
fatal robe ; — her swift repentance and anxious 
alarm ; — the utter anguish in which she listens to 
the reproaches of her son, describing his father's 
sufferings ; — the silent desperation with which she 
rushes to the bridal couch, there to expiate her un- 
conscious crime by a violent death ; — in all these 
we discern the hand of a master, and forget the 
deficiencies of other characters in contemplating 
the excellence of this. On the whole, this drama, 
if it does not exalt the reputation of Sophocles, 
would have crowned a meaner poet with immor- 
tality. 



TRACHINLS:. 7 

The chorus is composed of Trachinian virgins. 
The scene is at Trachis, in Thessaly, whither Her- 
cules had retired after the unintentional murder 
of his relative, the grandson of CEneus. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Deianira. 

Attendant. 

Hyllus. 

Chorus of Trachinian Virgins. 

Trachinian, or Messenger. 

Lichas. 

Matron, or Nurse. 

Old Man, Attendant on Hercules. 

Hercules. 



TRACHINIiE. 



DEIANIRA, ATTENDANT. 

Dei. Tis an old adage, and of all approved, 
That never canst thou learn, if man's brief date 
(Be blest or wretched, till by death fulfilledl; 
Yet, ere the grave enshroud me, well I know 
How dreary and unblest hath been mine own. 
When in the palace of my sire I dwelt 
At Pleuron, if of all th' iEtolian maids 
One feared detested nuptials, 'twas myself. 
My suitor was the River-God — I speak 
Of Achelous — who, in triple form, 



10 trachinle:. 

Required me of my father ; first he came 

A manifest bull ; — next rolled in volumed folds 

A spotted serpent ; — then gigantic stalked 

In form a mortal, and in head a bull, 

While from his bearded chin irriguous flowed 

Streams of the fountain flood. To such a lord 

Was I, unhappy ! destined ; and for death 

Arose my ceaseless prayer, or ere I came 

To his loathed bridal couch. At length, though late, 

Yet oh ! to me how welcome, the famed son 

Of lofty Jove and fair Alcmena came, 

Who, with the monster matched in mortal strife, 

My freedom won. The horrors of the fray 

I cannot tell — I know them not — such scene 

He, who unmoved beheld it, best can paint. 

Appalled I sate in mute and breathless fear, 

Lest that my fatal beauty should but work 

My lasting woe. The Arbiter of strife, 

Eternal Jove, th' event awarded well, 

If it indeed were well. I, to the couch 

Of Hercules advanced, his well-won prize, 

Still in my bosom feed corroding care, 

Distracted for my lord. Nights come and wane, 

But only lend variety to woe. 

And I have borne him children, whom, like one 



TRACHINIiE. 11 

That tills a field far distant, he hath seen 
But twice — in seed-time and in harvest once. 
A life like this restores the chief to home, 
And drives him thence, in ceaseless bondage held. 
Now, his allotted labours all achieved, 
Redoubled terrors haunt me. From what time 
He slew the valiant Iphitus, we dwell 
Exiles in Trachis with our generous host. 
But where my lord is gone, this none can tell. 
Hence, his strange absence wakes my restless dread ; 
I more than fear some dire reverse hath chanced. 
Tis no brief space ; — ten lingering months have fled, 
And five ; yet through this long, long interval 
He sends no herald * there is some dread cause. 
Parting, such tablet to my hand he gave ;— 
The Gods in mercy grant I have received it, 
Not to our mutual misery ! 

Att. Honoured lady ! 
Long have I witnessed thine, incessant tears, 
Poured for the absent Hercules ; and now, 
If it be lawful for a slave to breathe 
Her counsel to the freeborn, would I speak: 
Lady, thou dost abound in manly sons ; 
Why send not one to seek thine absent lord ? 
And first, if I may name him, the brave Hyllus, 



12 TRACHINLaS. 

Whom, if his sire he reverence, such bold deed 
Would best beseem. Lo ! to the palace now 
He hastens opportune, and if thou deem 
My counsel worthy, of thy son's approach, 
And of my words, thou mayst avail thee now. 

Enter Hyllus. 



HYLLUS, DEIANIRA, ATTENDANT. 

Dei. My son, my much-loved offspring, from 
the lips 
Ev'n of th' ignobly born high speech proceeds. 
This woman is a slave, and yet her words 
Might well become the free. 

Hyll. What hath she spoken ? 
Inform me, mother ! if thou mayst inform me. 

Dei. She deems it foul reproach, that when so 
long 
Thy sire delays, thou shouldst not search what land 
Hath thus detained him. 

Hyll. This I know already, 
If we may credit rumour. 

Dei. Where on earth, 
My son, abides thy father ? 



TEACHING. 13 

Hyll. The past year, 
Tis said, in bondage to a Lydian dame, 
He bore th' ignoble labours of a slave. 

Dei. If shame like this he brooked, what added 
baseness 
May we not dread to hear ? 

Hyll. But, as I learn, 
He is once more in freedom. 

Dei. Where doth fame 
Report him tarrying now, alive or dead ? 

Hyll. Against Euboea and King Eurytus, 
He led, or now prepares to lead, his band. 

Dei. Knowst thou, my son, the certain oracles 
He left with me, relating to that land ? 

Hyll. What oracles ? Thy words are new and 
strange. 

Dei. That there his earthly prilgrimage shall 
close, 
Or, in this strife triumphant, he should pass 
His yet remaining days in peace serene. 
And, in such crisis, wilt not thou, my son, 
Speed to the succour of thy noble father ? 
If he survive, his fortunes shall we share, 
And if he perish, we must perish too. 



14 TRACHTNIJE. 

Hyll. I go, my mother ! had I earlier known 
The prescient word, I had not paused till now. 
1 My father's wonted victories will not leave 
Our minds to sink in terror. Yet, since now 
Informed, I will not cease till I explore 
The certain truth of all. 

Dei. Go then, my son ! 
He who, though late, aspires to noble deeds, 
When wisdom warns him, wins the meed of fame. 

Enter Chorus. 
Chorus. 

STROPHE. 

O thou ! whom star-gemmed night declining 
Wakes into birth, or soothes to bland repose ; 
Thou Sun ! in matchless splendour shining, 
Thee, thee I ask — do thou, bright Power ! disclose 
Where doth Alcmena's offspring dwell ? 
O thou, who beam'st with ever-lucid ray, 
Doth the bold chief in sea-girt isle delay ? 



1 In this passage the translator has followed the arrange- 
ment of Erfurdt in preference to that of Brunck. 



TRACHINIA. 15 

a In east or western climes ? O tell, 
Thou, whose pervading eye doth Heaven and Earth 
survey. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

I hear the plaintive wild lamenting, 

Which, like some hapless bird, for her loved lord 

Sad Deianira still is venting, — 

And slumber's lenient balm is never poured 

O'er her dull eye-lids ! — In her breast 

The hero lives, well, well remembered there ; 

While on her widowed couch in chill despair, 

Unsolaced still by genial rest, 

She thinks on heavier ills her absent lord may bear. 

STROPHE II. 

As o'er the broad blue ocean, ; 

From north or south when whirlwinds rise, 

Unnumbered billows to the skies 

Are hurled in wild commotion, 



a In order to avoid the incongruity of placing Hercules in 
two continents at once, it has been proposed to read his-o-a'to-iy, 
for &cr<ju.~criv. Without, however, investing the hero with the 
attribute of ubiquity, we may suppose the passage merely to 
imply an inquiry whether he were in Europe or in Asia. 



16 TRACHINLffi. 

And waves on waves successive roll ; — 

So must the Theban Hero bear 

The ruder shock of ceaseless care ; 

So ever-changing toils control, 

Rough as the Cretan waves ; yet some kind God 

Preserves him, ever safe, from Pluto's drear abode. 



ANTISTROPHE II. 

And hence would I reprove thee, 

Consoling while I seem to chide ; — 

Why should fair hope be cast aside, 

And chill despondence move thee ? 

The Sire, who sways this earthly sphere, 

Wills not unclouded bliss to send 

On man — but grief with joy to blend, 

And temper hope by fear :■ — 

Both, like the starry group that gems the pole;- 

With ever-varying course, in just succession roll. 

EPODE. 

Spangled night, with sable sway, 
Frowns not on the world for aye ; 
Sorrow wounds not — golden store 
Doth not bless to change no more : 



TEACHING. 17 



Joy and woe in turn succeed ; 
Hearts in turn must bound and bleed. 
Lady, on my counsels dwell, 
Trust that all may yet be well ; — 
When, oh when ! did lofty Jove 
Reckless of his children prove ? 



DEIANIRA, CHORUS. 



Dei. Aware, it seems, of mine o'erwhelming woes 
Thou com'st — but, oh ! what pangs distract my soul, 
From sad experience mayst thou never know ! 
As yet thou know'st not. Ever fresh and fair 
Smile the gay meads where youth exults to rove ; 
Unharmed by sultry suns, or stormy showers, 
By wintry winds unruffled — while the tide 
Of life flows on in glad unvarying course ; 
But when the name of virgin is exchanged 
For that of wife, through the lone hours of night 
What sleepless care she feels — now for her lord, 
Now for her children fearing. Then alone 
From her own sufferings will she learn the weight 
That presses on my heart. In days long past 
Many and various evils have I mourned, 

vol. n. c 



18 TRACHINIJE. 

But never felt the pang's that now I feel. 

What time the royal Hercules went forth 

Upon his last emprize, within his halls 

He left a ? tablet, graven long since with words 

Of highest import ; such on perilous deeds 

Embarking, never to my hand he gave ; 

But as to conquest parted — not to death. 

Yet now, as if no more, he hath assigned 

My nuptial dowry — to his children now 

Divided their paternal heritage ; 

Prescribing first the time ; — if thrice five months 

Revolving found him absent, — then his doom 

Was fixed for death ; if he survived the close, 

Calm and unruffled were his future days. 

Thus had the Gods, he said, assigned the term 

Of his allotted labours ; thus the beech 

Oracular, at old Dodona, spake 

By the prophetic doves. The hour is come 

When some event must prove the presage true ; 

3 HaXaiocv Mtoov eyyiyfa.^ip^i. — This notable record proves, 
undeniably, that Sophocles believed alphabetic writing to 
have been in common use in Greece in the age of Hercules, 
and can admit of no other interpretation than a written docu- 
ment analogous to our notion of a will. — Penn's Primary 
Argument of the Iliad, ch. xi. 



TRACHINI#:. 19 

Therefore, dear virgins, when in pleasing sleep 
Entranced I lie, I start in frequent dread, 
Lest he, the noblest of mankind, should fall, 
And I remain to wail him ! 

Ch. Augur now 
Omens of happier import, for I see 
A crowned messenger approach from far. 

Enter Trachinian. 



TRACHINIAN, DEIANIRA, CHORUS. 

Tra. Most honoured Deianira, I am here 
The first to free thee from thy load of terror — 
Know, thy Alcides lives, with conquest crowned, 
And offers to his tutelary Gods 
A sacrifice of triumph. 

Dei. What, old man, 
What tidings dost thou bear me ? 

Tra. Soon, oh soon, 
Thy long-sought lord shall in his home appear, 
Graced with triumphant fame. 

Dei. And didst thou learn 
From citizens or strangers these glad tidings ? 

c 2 



20 TRACHINIiE. 

Tra. The herald Lichas, in the verdant mead, 
Recounted all. I heard the joyous tale, 
And foremost rushed to bear the welcome news, 
That I might win thy favour for my meed. 

Dei. And how doth Lichas linger, when he bears 
Tidings of triumph ? 

Tra. Lady, much withstands 
His onward progress. Melia's thronging crowds 
Press round, and check his passage. Ardent all 
To catch the welcome tidings, none will brook 
The herald's absence, till his wish be won. 
Thus,ithough himself reluctant, he delays 
With those who seek his presence. Thou, ere long, 
Wilt greet his glad arrival. 

Dei. Mighty Jove ! 
Who dwell'st mid (Eta's sacred 4 unshorn meads, 
On me, though late, thou hast bestowed deep joy. 
Break forth, ye virgins, into songs of gladness ; 
Without, within the palace, let the hymns 
Of joy resound ; beyond my fondest hope 
A ray of rapture brightens through despair. 



''Aropov "hupum. — So Euripides. 

Sot rovh tff'Kty.'Tov aritpccvov if aJt»paTtf 
At^covog. — x. r. K. — Hippol. 72. 



TRACHINIiE. 21 



Chorus. 



Ye, who crowd yon palace, raise 
Round your altars hymns of praise 
Let the virgin-choir on high 
Swell the bridal harmony ; 
While the youth's responsive train 
Echoes the exultant strain. 
Sing the guardian Lord of Light, 
Armed with golden quiver bright,*- 
Blending still, with glad acclaim, 
Paean, Paean, honoured name. 
Virgins, pour th' enraptured lay 
To the Sister of the Day ; 
5 Dian sing, whose fatal bow 
Lays the stately quarry low ; 



5 'Eha,(pn@6tov. — So Homer, Hymn, in Dian. 

TlapQei/ov ou$owv } tXutpyfioXov, lo^eaifotv. 

'Aptpivrvpov. — Hecate, or Diana, was represented in the mys- 
teries as holding a torch in each hand. The epithet, however, 
may be taken as expressive merely of the splendour of the 
Goddess, " de Diana in plenilunio : upfyinvpov, undique fulgi- 
dutn." — Hippol. 559. 



22 TRACHINI^. 

Vested in encircling fire — 
And tli' attendant virgin 6 choir ! 

I soar extatic. — Monarch of my soul, 

Ne'er will I spurn, sweet pipe, thy bland control. 

The ivy-twined Thyrsus wakes a thrill 

Through all my breast, inflaming wild desire 

To join the sportive Bacchic choir. 

Io, Io Paean still 

I sing ! — Look, look, beloved Queen, 

Full in thy presence now the pledge of joy is seen. 

Dei. I see, dear virgins ; to its office still 
Mine eye is true, and marks this joyful train. 

Enter Lie has with Captives. 



DEIANIRA, LICHAS, CHORUS, CAPTIVES. 

Herald, I bid thee welcome, though thy coming 
Was long delayed, if thou bringst aught of glad- 
ness. 



6 Tiivov&q te vv/xtpac^, — the adjacent shore of Trachis was 
sacred to Diana, who was usually accompanied with a train 
of attendant nymphs. 



TRACHINIiE. 23 

Li. We come with happiest omens, and our 
deeds, 
Lady, this joyful greeting well may claim — 
Such words befit the messenger of good. 

Dei. Thou of mankind most welcome— tell me 
first 
What most I burn to hear ; — shall I once more 
Greet Hercules alive ? — 

Li. I left the King 
Strong in his wonted might, from ills secure, 
Vigorous in health, not pining with disease. 

Dei. Where ? in his own, or some barbaric clime? 
Li. On the Eubcean shore ; an altar there 
He rears, and offers to Cenaean 7 Jove. 

Dei. Some vow discharging, or by Heaven en- 
joined? 
Li. Bound by a vow, when his good spear sub- 
dued 
The city of these women, whom thou seest. 

Dei. Who, by the Gods, are these, and whence 
their race ? 
They claim my pity, or their woes deceive me ! 



7 So called, from Cenzeum, a promontory of Eubcea, sacred 
to Jupiter. 



24 TRACKING. 

Li. These, when the towers of Eurytus he razed, 
The victor for himself and Heaven reserved. 

Dei. And in this siege were the long dreary 
months, 
Since last he left his palace, all consumed ? 

Li. No ; through the greater part was he detained 
In Lydia, as he tells ; not free, indeed, 
But bartered as a slave — nor thou arraign 
My tale, O Lady ; 'twas the act of Jove. 
Sold to barbaric Omphale, he pined 
A year in bondage, as himself relates. 
Stung by disgrace so shameful, with an oath 
He charged his soul, to lead the guilty cause 
Of this keen outrage, with his wife and children, 
In bondage not less bitter. Nor in vain 
Was pledged his faith. He, from the guilt absolved, 
Raised his confederate band, and sought the towers 
Of Eurytus ; for him of all mankind 
He deemed sole author of such deadly wrong ; 
Who, when thy Lord his sheltering palace sought, 
A guest of ancient days, reviled him much 
In words of insult, much with rancorous soul ; — 
And said — though he th' inevitable darts 
Bore in his hand, his sons were better skilled 
To draw the bow ; and added — that a slave 



TRACHINIJE. 25 

Deserved but blows and insult from the free. 
8 And at the banquet, when with wine opprest, 
Expelled him from the palace. By such wrong 
Incensed, when 9 Iphitus essayed to track 
O'er the Tirynthian hills his vagrant steeds, 
And mind and eye on other cares were bent, 
From towering rock he dashed the wretch to earth. 
Indignant at the deed, Olympian Jove, 
The King and general Father, drove him forth 
To pine a purchased captive, nor endured 
That he should slay this only of mankind 
With treacherous fraud, though if in open war 
He had avenged the outrage, Jove had stamped 
His seal and sanction on the righteous deed ; 
But the great Gods abhor injurious wrong. 
They who with insolent taunts reviled the chief, 

8 Hercules, though the son of Jupiter, and himself a pro- 
bationary God, appears to have been addicted to drunken- 
ness — one of the most disgusting of human propensities — in 
no common degree. Even the beautiful drama of Alcestis is 
deformed by the introduction of the inebriated Hercules, ex- 
claiming to the astonished and indignant attendant — 

Ovroq, Tt crsfAVov y.&i wetppovTixoq /3A£7Tsk 1 

9 One of the sons of Eurytus. 



26 trachinle:. 

Are now the tenants of the silent tomb ; 
Their city is enslaved — these, whom thou seest, 
From loftiest splendour plunged to deepest woe, 
Await thy pleasure ; so thy Lord hath willed, 
And I, his faithful slave, fulfil his bidding. 
Know, too, that he, the votive rites performed 
For this glad conquest to his Father Jove, 
Himself will come. Of all my lengthened tale, 
This word, I deem, awakes thy liveliest joy. 
. Ch. Now, Queen, true joys are thine, from what 
thou seest, 
And the glad tidings in his words conveyed. 

Dei. How can I but exult, and that most justly, 
Hearing the prosperous fortunes of my Lord? 
There is, at least, high cause of transport here ; 
Yet those, who scan the dubious future well, 
Must fear, lest rapture change ere long to woe. 
Strange doubts, dear virgins, through my bosom 

thrill, 
When these ill-fated captives I behold, 
Without or sheltering home, or parents' love, 
Unhappy wanderers in a foreign land, 
Who, sprung perchance from free-born sires, are 
doomed 



TRACHINLffi. 27 

Henceforth to pine in servitude unblest. 

Eternal Jove, 10 averter of my woes ! 

may I never be condemned to see 

Thy hand thus heavy on my fated race ; 

Or if thou will'st their woe, first let me perish : 

Such dread the sight of this sad train awakes. 

But who art thou? so young, and yet so wretched; 

A virgin or a mother? If thy mien 

May wake conjecture, still unwedded thou; 

Whate'er thou art, most noble. Tell me, Lichas, 

Who is this stranger-maid? What mother bare her? 

What father boasts her lineage ? Herald ! speak, — 

Far o'er the rest our sympathy she claims ; 

For she alone endures her grief with patience. 

Li. How should I know? Why ask of me such 
question? 
She springs, perchance, from no ignoble race. 

Dei. Is she a daughter of King Eurytus? 

Li. I cannot tell ; I made no long demands. 

Dei. From her companions heardst thou not her 
name? 

Li. No; I performed th' allotted task in silence. 



Ztv Tgoita.M — Jove, averter of ills, or subverter of empires. 



28 TRACHINIJE. 

Dei. Speak thou, unhappy ; tell thy tale of woe, 
For not to know thee seems itself misfortune. 

Li. In sooth the virgin now no more replies 
Than heretofore ; nor hath she uttered aught 
Of lofty taunt, or plaint of hopeless woe ; 
But ever, crushed by grief's overwhelming load, 
Weeps on in restless anguish, since she left 
Her native land of storms. Sad is her doom; 

let her sorrows meet thy kind forbearance. 
Dei. Let her then pass, and enter in the palace 

As most she list ; to her severer woes 

1 would not add one pang : enough, alas ! 
Her sufferings wound already. But let all 
Retire within the palace ; thou, to speed 
Where duty calls thee ; — I must straight prepare 
A worthy greeting for my much loved lord. 

[Exeunt Lichas and Captives. 



DEIANIRA, TRACHINIAN, CHORUS. 

Tra. Nay, rest thou here a moment, that, from 
these 
Apart, thou first mayst learn on whom thy roof 
Bestows a refuge, which thou hast not heard, 



TRACHINIiE. 29 

Yet much imports to hear. I have of all 
A full and certain knowledge. 

Dei. And what hast thou, 
Thus to arrest our step? 

Tra. Remain and hear me. 
My former tidings were not lightly breathed ; 
Nor will I now delude thee. 

Dei. Wouldst thou then 
I called the herald hither ; or alone, 
To me and to these virgins wouldst thou speak? 
Tra. Nought hinders me to speak with these 
and thee, 
But let the rest depart. 

Dei. They have departed ; 
And now thy news unfold. 

Tra. In all that late 
This Lichas said, he passed the bounds of truth. 
Or he is now most faithless ; or at first 
He came a lying herald. 

Dei. Sayst thou so ? 
Unfold the purport of thy dubious speech, 
For all as yet is strange and most obscure. 

Tra. I heard this man affirm, and numbers there 
Were present to attest it, that thy lord, 
For love of this sweet maid, slew Eurytus, 



30 TRAGHINOK. 

And stormed the strong (Echalia. Love alone, 
Of all the Gods, impelled him to the combat. 
He was no slave in Lydia, — no base tool 
Of Omphale ; nor was the hapless youth, 
Whom from the rock he hurled, the fated cause, 
As this dissembler feigns ; assigning thus 
A specious pretext for the Hero's fall. 
But when thy lord in vain her father prayed 
To give his daughter to his arms in secret, 
Some trivial plea of enmity he feigned, 
And warred against her country, — slew the King 
Her sire, arid razed the city to the dust. 
Now, as thou seest, he sends her to thy halls 
Not unregarded, nor in captive guise. 
Believe it not, dear Lady ! 'tis opposed 
To reason ; since his heart beats high with love. 
I deemed it fitting to declare the whole 
To thee, O Queen, e'en as I chanced to hear it ; 
And, in the concourse of Trachinia's sons, 
Numbers, as I, were conscious to the tale, 
And will confirm it. If my words be harsh, 
I grieve to wound thee, yet I speak the truth. 
Dei. Wretch that I am ! what ills are gathering- 
round me, — 
What latent plague beneath my very roof 



TRACHINIiE. 31 

Unconscious have I sheltered. Wretched me ! 
Was she without a nation or a name, 
As the base wretch who led her falsely swore, 
In form so stately and in face so fair? 

Tra. Her father was King Eurytus, — her name 
Is Iole; yet nought could he reveal — 
Right trusty herald ! — he forbore to ask it ! 

Ch. I would not call down vengeance on all 
crimes ; 
But when such baseness with unseemly art 
Is glossed and varnished, let the traitor perish. 

Dei. What, Virgins, shall I do? Struck with amaze 
At this sad tale, ten thousand fears distract me. 

Ch. Question the herald ; he in open terms 
Perchance may speak the whole, if force constrain 
him. 

Dei. I go : thy counsel is on wisdom built. 

Ch. Shall we remain, or what are thy com- 
mands? 

Dei. Remain. The man, unsummoned by our 
train, 
Spontaneous now is issuing from the palace. 

Enter Lie has. 



32 TRACHINIiE. 



LICHAS, DEIANIRA, CHORUS, TRACHINIAN. 

Li. What greeting, Lady, should I bear from 
thee 
To thy loved Hercules. Speak now thy will ; 
Thou seest me straight departing. 

Dei. Art thou then, 
Absent so long, thus ardent to depart, 
Ere we have fully questioned of thy lord? 

Li. If thou hast aught to question, I am here. 

Dei. And wilt thou answer with unvarying truth? 

Li. Far as I know, great Jove attest my faith. 

Dei. Who is this captive, whom thou broughtest 
- hither ? 

Li. Euboea is her country ; — of her race 
Nought can I tell thee. 

Tra. Villain, look on me. 
Art thou aware to whom these words are breathed? 

Li. And why of me dost thou demand such 
question? 

Tra. First, if thou dar'st, reply to what I ask 
thee. 

Li. To my most honoured Lady, Deianira, 
Daughter of (Eneus, wife of Hercules, 



TRACHINLE. 33 

My noble mistress, or mine eyes deceive me. 

Tra. The answer this I sought. Thou dost con- 
fess 
She is thy mistress? — 

Li. Yea; with strictest justice. 
Tra. What then ? — what fitting vengeance should 
requite thee, 
If to thy mistress thou be found a traitor ? 

Li. And how a traitor? What base wiles are 

these ? 
Tra. None; thine own deeds evince the greater 

baseness. 
Li. I go ; so long to listen was unwise. 
Tj*a. Nay, not at least till my demand be an- 
swered ! 
Li. Ask what thou wilt, since thine ungoverned 
tongue 
Spurns all restraint. 

Tra. Know'st thou the captive, then, 
Whom hither thou hast brought? 

Li. I know her not. 
What prompts th' inquiry? 

Tra. Didst thou not affirm, 
This slave — whose name, forsooth, thou canst not 
tell— 

VOL. II. D 



34 TRACHINIiE. 

Was Iole, the child of Eurytus? 

Li. And where affirm it? Whom canst thou 
adduce 
Such charge to witness ? 

Tra. Numbers of our state ■ — 
Crowds in the mid Trachinian forum heard 
Thy narrative. 

Li. I own it. I declared 
So I at least had heard ; but vague report 
Is not the firm assurance of a fact. 

Tra. Why prate of vague report ? Didst thou 
not say, 
Nay, swear thou brought'st the bride of Hercules? 

Li. I brought his bride ? — Speak, Lady, by the 
Gods ! 
Who is this babbling stranger? 

Tra. One who heard thee,- — 
In person heard thee say, for love of her 
He sacked the city ; not to vengeance roused 
By the insulting Lydian. Love alone 
Impelled him to the deed. 

Li. Hence with the fool, 
O Queen ! to trifle with a brain diseased 
But ill becomes the wise. 

Dei. Nay, but by Him 



TRACHINIJE. 35 

Who rolls dread thunders through the shadowy groves 
On (Eta's brow, I charge thee, seek no more 
To hide the truth from me. Thou wilt not speak 
To a weak woman, or to one untaught 
Of man's estate ; that in the same delights 
He finds not always gladness. He who strives 
With mightier Love, and lifts th' opposing hand, 
Is void of wisdom. O'er th' immortal Gods 
Love lords it at his will ;— he rules my breast, 
And wherefore not another's, framed as mine ? 
Should I condemn my husband, by such flame 
Possessed, or censure this unconscious maid, 
Who works no evil,— no disgrace to me, 
I were indeed of prudence all bereft. 
It is not thus. But, if thy Lord hath trained 
His servant to deception, thou hast learned 
No worthy lesson : if in such base lore 
Thou wert thine own instructor, when thy will 
Would show thee honest, thou wilt seem a traitor. 
Speak then th' unvarnished truth. To the free-born 
'Tis foulest stigma to be branded liar. 
To shun detection is a futile hope. 
Many to whom thou spak'st will tell the tale ; 
And if indeed thou fear'st, thy fears are vain, 
Since to be uninformed alone would grieve me. 

d 2 



36 TRACHINI^. 

To know — what evil? Hath not Hercules 

Of other consorts been the only Lord ; 

Yea, and of many : and did one receive, 

At least from me, harsh words, or keen reproach? 

Nor shall she meet them, though for her his breast 

Glows with impassioned love. When first I gazed, 

She roused my liveliest pity, for I knew 

Her fatal beauty had but wrought her woe. 

Most wretched, though reluctant, she hath plunged 

Her state in ruin and herself in bondage. 

Such thoughts, 1 I spurn them to the winds afar. 

But thee, I charge, reserve thy fraud for others ; 

Observe to me a never-swerving truth. 

Ch. Obey the Queen, who counsels for thy good. 
Thou wilt not soon repent, and mine esteem 
Thou mayst regain. 

Li. Most dear and honoured mistress, 
Since I behold thee weighing human acts 
With human sympathies, inspired by prudence, 



1 The propriety of this translation is dubious. The expla- 
nation of the scholiast, on which it rests, is decidedly repre- 
hended by Blomfield, Sept. apud Theb. Gloss, line 687. 
The original, aKha. roLvra. plv 'Pejtw xcct b§ov, may be literally 
rendered, — " Let these things float with the stream." 



TRACHIN03. 37 

I will declare the truth, and nought conceal. 
Tis even thus, as thine informant tells thee : 
Resistless love of her thy Lord inflamed, 
And for her sake, by hostile spear subdued, 
In one wide ruin sad (Echalia sunk. 
These things, for of thy husband I must speak, 
He nor enjoined me to conceal, nor did 
Himself disown them ; I alone, dear Lady, 
Fearing to wound thee with th' unwelcome tidings, 
Erred, if indeed thou deem'st my fraud an error. 
Now, since thou know'st the whole unvarnished 

truth, 
Not less for thy Lord's sake than for thine own, 
Endure the maid with pity and with patience, 
And prove by actions what thy words have pledged. 
He, whose unmated prowess conquered all, 
By love of her himself is vanquished now. 

Dei. It is our settled purpose thus to act, 
Nor will we court a 2 voluntary ill, 



2 NoVoi/ y sTraxToK. It is difficult to discover the exact signi- 
fication of the word Iveutrov. By some it is interpreted 
extrinsecus inveclum, by others peregrinum, by others again 
Yolunt avium. 



38 TRACHINIiE. 

Contending with the Gods. But let us pass 
Within the house, that thou mayst bear to him 
Our letters, and the gifts we would return 
For his rich presents. — Bear them to my Lord — 
Thou must not part unhonoured with a gift, 
Who cam'st attended by so rich a train. 

[Exeunt Deianira and Lichas. 



Chorus, 

STROPHE. 

Unconquered is the matchless might 
Of Venus. Though I may not sing 
How she beguiled th' Olympian King, 

And the dark Power of Stygian Night ; 

Or Him whose wild waves roar, 

And shake the solid shore; — 

Yet rivals twain for this sweet bride 
In desperate fray encountering strove, 

Till wounds and dusty toil decide 
The guerdon of her love. 



TRACHINIJE. 



ANTISTROPHE. 

The haughty Tyrant of the Flood, 

Stern Achelous rushed to fight; 

Like a wild bull in form and might, 
With towering horns the Monster stood ;— 
From Bacchic Thebes alone 
Rushed forth Jove's warrior-son ; 
Wielding the bow< — the club — the spear ;— 

Thus closed they — ardent for the bride, 
While lone she sat and lovely there, 

The Venus to decide. 

EPODE. 

And then and there rose mingling sound 
Of bows and crashing horns around ; 
Foe twines with foe in hate's close grasp, 
While many a groan and panting gasp 
Bursts from each breast, as brow to brow 
They meet in full encounter now. 
Mean time the gentle virgin fair 

On a green bank conspicuous sate, 
Waiting her destined bridegroom there ;— 

(Thus matrons old the tale relate,) 



40 TRACHINIJE. 

That eye, whose beauty fired the fray, 
Gazed on the strife in tearful dread, 

Till from her mother's arms away 

His beauteous prize the exultant victor led. 



DEIANIRA, CHORUS. 

Dei. While, gentle virgins, our brief guest within 
Gives his last greeting to the captive train, 
Impatient to depart; — to you I steal 
Unseen, to tell what scheme these hands have 

framed, 
And claim your pity for the woes I feel. 
Her whom I late received, I deem no more 
A virgin, but my lord's affianced wife ; 
And, as his freight the mariner admits, 
So I give entrance to my soul's despair. 
Now on one bridal couch, one lord's embrace 
We both await, — such worthy recompense 
The true and noble Hercules — so named — 
Awards me now for long and ceaseless care. 
Yet not his love my keen resentment wakes, 
Oft in this weakness hath he sunk before — 



TRACHINI^. 41 

% But oh ! to dwell with her — with her to share 
The rights once all mine own — what woman's heart 
Can tamely brook ? I see her vernal grace 
Ripening to pure and perfect loveliness, 
Mine own decaying fast ; on that the eye 
Is wont to dwell delighted, while from this 
Turns the reluctant step. Hence, much I fear 
Lest, while the empty honours of a wife 
I share, the glad reality be hers. 
Yet not e'en this, as I declared, should rouse 
To wrath a prudent woman. Now, dear virgins, 
What hope remains to soften my despair, 
I will inform you. In a brazen vase, 
With wariest care secluded, I have long 
Preserved the shaggy Centaur's ancient gift, 
Which in my youth's first blossom I received 
From hoary Nessus, dying with keen wound, 
What time he used o'er deep Evenus' flood 
To bear for hire the traveller in his hands. 



3 Aye, if he speak ray name with his fond voice, 
It will be with the same tone, that to her 
He murmured hers — it will be, or 'twill seem so. 
If he embrace me, 'twill be with those arms 
In which he folded her.— Milman, Fazio. 



42 TRACHINLffi. 

Not by strong oar, nor sails of rapid bark. 
When first departing from my native towers, 
I followed great Alcides as his bride, 
The monster bore me o'er ; but when he reached 
The midst afar, his wanton hands transgressed ; 
I shrieked aloud, and straight the son of Jove 
Turned to the spot, and from his sounding bow 
Sped the swift shaft; — it hissed unerring on, 
4 And struck the monster with a mortal blow, 
Who thus in death addressed me ; — " Child of (Eneus, 
" So thou observe my counsel, thou shalt reap 
" High profit from my death, since thee the last 
" Of mortal race these hands their freight have 

borne. 
" If thou preserve the stiff and clotted gore 
" That round my wound congeals, where hangs this 

shaft, 
" In the black blood of Lerna's hydra steeped, 
" For ever changeless shall it bind to thine 
" The soul of Hercules, that ne'er his love 
" Shall burn to others as it burns to thee." 
This, friendly virgins, hath my soul recalled ; 



4 Literally, And it whizzed through the lungs of his breast. 



TRACHINIJE. 43 

And since that hour I have preserved his gift 

Hid in the palace. I have steeped this robe, 

Applying all he bade me, — all is done. 

Unhallowed arts I never,— never knew, 

Nor seek to know them ; for I scorn such baseness : 

But by these spells could I transcend the charms 

Of this young beauty, and revive the love 

Of Hercules — the deed were well essayed, 

If ye approve my purpose, — and if not, 

I will forbear the act. 

Ch. If thou hast aught 
Of faith in such design, I fain must think 
Thou hast not counselled ill. 

Dei. Thus far alone 
My faith extends. I can but think it true. 
Experience hath not yet confirmed the fact. 

Ch. Proceed then to the act; for though thy 
trust 
Be firm, if unessayed, thou canst not prove it. 

Dei. Ere long we shall be taught ; for, lo ! I see 
Yon herald quit the house,— he comes with speed. 
But be our secret kept ; for guilt itself, 
If wrought in darkness, oft escapes dishonour. 

Enter Lichas. 



44 TRACHINIiE. 



LICHAS, DEIANIRA, CHORUS. 

Li. Daughter of (Eneus, promptly speak thy 
will ; 
Too far already is our stay prolonged. 

Dei. Such errand, Lichas, hath engrossed my 
care, 
While thou within heldst converse with the stran- 
gers ; 
That thou mayst bear this richly woven robe, 
Wrought by my hand, a present to thy Lord ; 
And, ere thou give it, say, in that fair vest 
No mortal form, save his, may be arrayed ; 
Let not the sun's resplendent beam glance o'er it, 
Nor flame from hallowed altars, nor bright hearth, 
Till he, enrobed in visible pomp, shall stand 
Before the Gods on sacrificial day. 
Such was our vow, if ever in these halls 
We saw him living, — heard of his return, — 
That, duly robed in this resplendent vest, 
He should stand forth, and to the Gods display 
A new adorer clad in new attire. 
Bear too this token, this familiar seal, 
Which at a glance thy Lord will recognise. 



TRACHINOL 45 

Away ; — discharge thine office well, nor aught 
Presume beyond thine orders. Do thine errand. 
So from one faithful service shalt thou win 
A double meed, my favour and thy master's. 

Li. If right the herald's heaven- taught charge 
I know, 
In nought, O Lady, will I pass thy word : 
But this sealed chest, e'en as thou giv'st, present ; 
And with unvarying truth report thy message. 
Dei. Depart then on thine errand. Well thou 
know'st 
The royal state and service of our house. 
Li. I know : and shall report that all is well. 
Dei. Thou know'st, for thou hast witnessed, 
with what kind 
And courteous greeting I received this maid. 
Li. Such, that mine heart exulted at the sight. 
Dei. Aught else shouldst thou relate ? Alas ! I 
deem 
Thou to thy Lord mayst bear my tenderest love, 
Ere bring like token of his love to me. 

[Exit Lichas. 



46 TRACHINLE. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

O ye who dwell on (Eta's brow, 

Where tepid rills are gushing ; 
To swell the genial baths below, 

Froni rocky fissures rushing ; — 
Ye who on Melia's hallowed shore, 
Swayed by the golden-quivered Power, 
Reside ; — where Greece, to grave debate, 
Convenes the sages of her state ; 5 — 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

To you no more the flute shall raise 
The dirge-like strain of sadness ; 

But emulate, with loftier lays, 
The lyre's celestial gladness : 



5 The Amphictyonic council, consisting of delegates from 
certain of the states of Greece, invested with the charge of 
the public interests, was accustomed to meet twice a year; in 
the spring at Delphi, and in the autumn at Thermopylae, near 
Melia. Demosthenes cites a decree, wherein the Amphic- 
tyonic council is called to xotvoy ruv 'EMwuv o-wetyov. 



TRACHINIjE. 47 

The son of Jove, Alcmena's son, 
His last and deadliest conflict won; 
While Virtue decks his trophied brow 
With laurels, homeward speeds him now. 

STROPHE II. 

Twelve lingering months rolled slowly on, 

Yet, distant o'er the main 
The chief delayed, his doom unknown ; — 

In hopeless — heartless pain, 
Wept his lone consort ; her fond breast 
Ne'er found a solace or a rest, 
Till Mars, by wild desire possessed, 
Closed all our toils again. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Come then, O come, — let every oar 

Thy gallant bark impel ; 
Soon let it greet our gladdening shore, 

And bid yon isle farewell, 
Whence now the incensed fumes arise ; — 
Speed — speed, till eve invests the skies, 
Robed in the vest Persuasion dyes, 
The Centaur's mystic spell. 

Enter Deianira. 



48 TRACHINIiE. 



DEIANIRA, CHORUS. 

Dei. I tremble, virgins, lest my late emprise 
Hath passed the bounds of wisdom and of right. 

Ch. Daughter of (Eneus, what import thy words ? 

Dei. I know not yet ; but much, I fear, ere long 
I shall be proved, by honest hopes impelled, 
To deeds of ill. 

Ch. Thou speak'st not of the gift 
Which thou hast sent to Hercules ? — 

Dei. I do. 
O never — never more will I advise 
The prompt performance of a dubious deed ! 

Ch. Tell us, if thou mayst tell, whence spring 
thy fears? 

Dei. That which hath chanced, my friends, is 
passing strange, 
Fraught with mysterious horror and dark presage. 
The light wool, severed from a snow-white sheep, 
With which but now I tinged the glittering robe, 
Hath passed in air ; not by th' attendant train 
Consumed, but self-corroded, — shrunk in dust, 
A.nd loosely crumbled on the vacant stone. 
But I will speak more largely, that to thee 



TRACHINIiE. 49 

May be explained the tenor of the deed. 
Of all the Centaur charged me, as he writhed 
In mortal anguish, by that shaft transfixed, 
Nought have I passed unheeded ; but retained, 
Like characters indelibly impressed 
On brazen tablets, all. Thus he enjoined, 
And thus have I fulfilled it. I have kept 
The mystic unguent unapproached by flame, — 
Untouched by day's warm splendour, close concealed 
In deep and dark recesses, till the time 
When I should tinge the fresh-anointed robe. 
Thus have I done. And now, when need required, 
Alone within, I spread it o'er the vest 
With wool, just severed from a slaughtered sheep ; 
Then in a hollow chest enclosed the gift, 
Screened from the scorching sunbeam, as ye saw. 
But when again within our halls I turned, 
A sight of horror met my shuddering gaze ; — 
Nor words can paint it, nor can thought conceive. 
It chanced, the wool, with which I tinged the vest, 
When thrown on earth, fell mid the noon-tide blaze, 
Where played the sun's warm beams ; and when it felt 
That genial ray, dissolved I know not how, 
And o'er the ground was scattered, light as dust 
Which falls from wood, dissevered by the saw. 

VOL. II. e 



50 TRACHINIiE. 

Thus to the earth it fell ; and where on earth 

It lay, a strangely-swelling froth arose, 

Dark as the purple juice of the rich grape 

In Autumn, bursting from the Bacchic vine. 

Wretch that I am ! I know not what to think : 

But see too plainly I have done a deed 

Of horror. Wherefore should the dying Centaur 

Regard with kindness her who caused his death ? 

It cannot be ; but ardent to destroy 

The foe, who pierced him, he hath thus beguiled 

me; — 
Which, ah ! I know too late, when the sad truth 
Can nought avail. I, yes, and I alone, 
Or visionary fears deceive my mind, 
Have caused the hero's downfal. Ah! I know 
The godlike Chiron maddened with the pain 
Of that black venom, when the arrow pierced him. 
All things that live are blasted by its touch. 
How then, O how, shall the envenomed gore 
Which flowed from that false Centaur, spare my Lord ? 
Like doom will soon be his, if right I deem. 
But should he perish, 'tis my firm resolve 
That we will die together. To survive 
With infamy's dark spot upon my name, 
From me were most abhorrent, who prefer 



TRACHINLffi. 51 

To all beside a soul that scorns dishonour. 

Ch. From deeds of horror dread must needs arise ; 
But lose not hope ere yet thou know the end. 

Dei. Alas ! there is no hope in evil counsels ; 
No cheering hope to rouse a glad reliance. 

Ch. And yet to those unwittingly who err 
Is anger lenient ; and if thou hast erred, 
Such error hath been thine. 

Dei. So one may speak 
Who shares not in the wrong, — on whom the weight 
Of conscious evil doth not press. 

Ch. But now 
Suppress the rest, unless thou wouldst disclose 
Aught of the fatal secret to thy son. 
He comes, who went before to seek his father. 

Enter Hyllus. 



HYLLUS, DEIANIRA, CHOTtUS. 

Hyl. O mother — would that one of these three lots 
Were mine to choose ! that thou wert now no more, 
Or, living still, didst call another son, 
Or couldst acquire a better frame of mind, 
Than now bears sway within thee. 

e 2 



52 TRACHINOE. 

Dei. my son, 
What have I done to merit scorn like this? 

Hyl. Know, thou hast slain on this accursed day 
Thy husband, and my father. 

Dei. Woe is me ! 
My son, what tale of horror dost thou bring 1 

Hyl. A tale of that which cannot be undone. 
For who hath power o'er deeds, that once have birth, 
To bid them be as they had never been? 

Dei. What hast thou said, my son? By whom 
informed 
Com'st thou to charge me with a crime so hateful ? 

Hyl. Nay, with these eyes I saw the piercing 
pangs 
That wrung my father — 'twas no vague report, 
No idle rumour. 

Dei. Where didst thou behold, 
Where stand in presence of thy noble father ? 

Hyl. If thou must hear it, I will tell thee all. 
When from the wreck of famed (Echalia's towers 
He came, with victory's trophies richly graced, 
And victims for the Gods ; — high o'er the strand 
Of steep Eubcea rises a rude rock, 
Stemming the onward sea, Cenaeum called ; — 
There to his Father Jove he rears a shrine, 



TRACHINIiE. 53 

6 And consecrates a grove ; with ardent joy 
I first beheld him there. While now in act 
To slay the numerous victims, from his home 
The herald Lichas in that instant came, 
Bearing thy gift, the death-impregnate robe. 
In this arrayed, as thou hadst straitly charged, 
He slew the victims — twelve selected bulls, 
The noblest of the spoil — and mingled there 
A hecatomb of meaner sacrifice. 
At first th' unhappy hero, glad in soul, 
And in his vest exulting, paid his vows ;— - 
But when th' ensanguined flame arose on high, 
From the rich offerings and the unctuous wood, 
Soon from his skin burst forth the copious sweat, 
And, as by dexterous artist firmly fixed, 
To his whole body clung that deadly robe ; 
Till shooting anguish thrilled in every bone, 
Rending his frame convulsive. When at length, 
The fiery venom of the viperous foe 

6 Ts/xs/iai/ te <pv*.Xci$u, literally, the leafy foliage of a grove. 
On all sacred solemnities, the altars were crowned with 
branches : — 

Nos delubra Deum miseri, quibus ultimus esset 
llle dies, festa velamus fronde per urbem. 

Virg. Mn. ii. 243. 



54 TRACHINLZE. 

Shot burning through his veins, he sternly asked 

Th' ill-fated Lichas, —of thy treacherous deed 

In all unconscious, — with what base intent 

He brought the robe ? — Unknowing aught of ill, 

The hapless herald answered — 'Twas thy gift 

Alone, and, as he brought it, sent by thee. 

He, at the word, infuriate with the pangs 

That tore his frame asunder, by the foot, 

Where bends the ancle, grasped the hapless wretch, 

And dashed him on the wave-encompassed rock ; 

Then from his shattered head poured mingling down 

A hideous mass of brains and gushing blood. 

The countless concourse raised a bitter cry 

For him who maddened, and for him who died ; — 

But none might venture to approach the hero. 

Wild with his pangs, he prostrate fell to earth, 

Now stood erect, still shrieking. The high rocks 

His groans resounded ; — Locris' sylvan crags, 

And wide Eubcea's promontories steep. 

When he grew faint with anguish, oft on earth 

The sufferer dashed his frame, and ceaseless raised 

Shouts of deep wailing, mingling stern reproach 

On thy unhappy couch, the nuptial tie 

Of CEneus, whence this fell destruction sprung. 

Then raising through the mist that darkened round 



TRACHINLE. 55 

His dim distorted eye, it fell on me, 

Weeping amidst the crowd ; he looked — and called 
me: 

" Approach, my son ! Oh fly not my despair, 

Forsake me not, though we should die together ; 

But raise me, raise, and bear me to some spot 

Where mortal eye may never more behold me. 

If thou hast aught of pity, bear me far, 

At least from this loathed region, ere I die." 

Such aid imploring, in the bark we placed, 

But scarce could bear him to the destined strand, 

Convulsed with deadliest pangs ; and here, ere long, 

Wilt thou behold him living, or in death. 

Such were thy counsels, mother, such thy deeds 

To my poor father ; for which traitorous acts 

May penal Justice and th' avenging Furies 

Meet recompense award thee. Thus I pray, 

If it be lawful — lawful it must be, 

Since every law towards me thyself hast spurned, 

And slain the best and bravest of mankind, 

One on whose like thou ne'er shalt look again. 

\~Exit Dei an ira. 
Ch. Why steal away in silence? — Knowst thou not 
This mute forbearance half confirms the charge? 



50 TRACHINIJE. 

Hyl. Nay, let her hence, and may the rising 
winds 
Far, far convey her from my loathing sight. 
Why cherish still a mother's empty name 
For her who acts not a true mother's part? 
Let her away in triumph — such delight 
As to my sire she gave, requite her baseness ! 

[Exit Hyllus. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Behold, dear virgins, with what fatal speed 
The ancient oracle of Heaven 
Hastes to its dread fulfilment driven ; — 
" When the revolving months," so Fate decreed, 
" Had crowned the twelfth long year, 
" Rest from his toils severe 
" The son of Jove should win ;"— firm to its end 
Doth the sure presage tend : 
Who wakes to life and light no more, 
His earthly toils are closed — his earthly bondage 
o'er. 



TRACH1NOE. 57 



ANTISTROPHE I. 

If in that vest, as in a bloody cloud 

Involved, the Centaur's hate he mourns ; — 

If in his side the venom burns 

Which, fraught with death, from that fell Hydra 

flowed ; — 
How shall yon sun display 
Another orient day 

To him, thus tortured by that ruthless pest* 
And in whose burning breast 
Dark Nessus, with dissembling art, 
And guileful words hath fixed th' intolerable smart? 

strophe 11. 
Such wiles th' unhappy Queen essayed, 
When o'er her house, from those new nuptials 

sprung, 
Impending miseries hung, 
Nor dreamt, alas ! by fraudful words betrayed, 
For her loved Lord the deadly snare was laid. 
Now, plunged in agony severe, 
Down her sad cheek th' incessant tear 
Of hopeless misery steals ; 
While, hastening to its destined close, 



58 TRACHINLffi. 

Fate sternly points to heavier woes, 
And darker curse reveals. 



ANTISTROPHE II. 

The fount of tears is bursting now, 

The infection spreads: — Ye Gods! from adverse 

might, 
Ne'er did such ills excite 
Our liveliest pity for Alcides' woe. 
Weep for that spear, triumphant o'er the foe, 
Which from (Echalia's hoary height 
Bore the young bride, in beauty bright 
The victor's lovely meed ! 
'Twas Venus, who in silence wrought 
That spell with fearful issue fraught, 
And her's the fatal deed ! 

Semich. Ah ! do my fears deceive, or do I hear 
Fresh lamentations bursting forth within? 
What shall I say 1 — 

Semich. No dubious sound, but wail of deepest 
woe 
It seems — new sorrows are unfolding there. 

Semich. Mark, with what clouded brow and awe- 
struck air 
Yon aged nurse approaches to inform us. 



TRACHINLE. 59 



Enter Matron. 



MATRON, CHORUS. 

Mat. What evils, O my children ! hath the gift 
Sent to Alcides, on this house entailed ! 

Ch. What new affliction bringst thou, aged 
mother ? 

Mat. The last of ways hath Deianira trod ; — 
That too with stedfast and unfaltering foot. 

Ch. Thou canst not mean of death? 

Mat. Thou hast heard all. 

Ch. Ah ! is she dead indeed ? 

Mat. Thou hear'st once more. 

Ch. Unhappy Queen ! how dostthou say she died 1 

Mat. In utter desperation was the deed ! 

Ch. Say, mother, by what doom she fell ? 

Mat. By her own ruthless hand. 

Ch. Did rage, or frenzy — 

Mat. 'Twas a weapon's point 
The wound inflicted. 

Ch. How did she contrive 
The deadly act? 



60 TRACHINIJE. 

Mat. Redoubling death on death, alone she pierced 
Her bosom with the sword. 

Ch. And saw'st thou the infuriate deed ? 

Mat. I saw, for at her side I stood. 

Ch. How ? how ? Recount the whole ! 

Mat. I said her own rash hand performed the 
deed. 

Ch. What dost thou say ? 

Mat. The clear and certain truth. 

Ch. Alas ! the new affianced bride 
A vengeful Fury hath produced 
To this devoted house ! 

Mat. Too true indeed ! But hadst thou marked 
the scene 
Which I have witnessed, soon thine heart would melt 
In deeper, livelier pity. 

Ch. How, alas ! 
Could woman's hand achieve so wild a deed ? 

Mat. Aye, 'twas a deed of horror — hear my tale, 
And then attest my truth. When first within 
Alone she went, and in the halls beheld 
Her sorrowing son the covered couch prepare, 
As hastening to return and meet his sire, 
She shrunk away where none might trace her pre- 



TRACHINIiE. 61 

Then, prostrate at the altars, wailed aloud 

Her widowed state, and ever as she touched 

7 Works which, in happier days, her hands had 

wrought, 
Fresh tears of grief and agony gushed forth. 
Thus, as she roved distracted through the palace, 
If chance her eye some loved domestic caught, 
Again she wept in anguish at the sight, 
Her hapless doom deploring; and her house, 
Alas ! from henceforth and for ever childless. 
When from these plaints she ceased, I saw her 

next, 
With sudden impulse, to the chamber rush 
Of her Alcides ; — latent near I lay, 
And with observant eye kept ceaseless watch, 
And marked th' unhappy Lady fondly strew 
The outspread garments on the hero's bed ; 
This mournful task fulfilled, upon the couch i 
She wildly sprung, and sad reclining there, 
With a quick flood of passionate tears, exclaimed — 
" O thou beloved couch, my bridal bed, 
" Farewell, farewell, for ever ! never more 



7 Opyavuv, — literally, tools or implements of work. 



62 TRACHINLffi. 

" Shalt thou receive me to thy soft repose." 

Lamenting thus, with hasty hand she loosed 

Her robe, where shone the bright clasp on her breast, 

And her left shoulder, with her side, laid bare. 

I rushed, with hurried step, swift as the strength 

Of faltering age allowed, to tell her son 

What desperate deed she planned ; but while we 

haste 
With hurried footsteps in uncertain dread, 
Deep in her side the two-edged sword we saw ; — 
The point had pierced her vitals. At the sight 
Her son lamented, for he knew in wrath 
The wretched sufferer struck that mortal blow ; 
Too late apprized by others, how she wrought 
That deed, unconscious of the Centaur's wile. 
Then, then indeed the hapless youth bursts forth 
In loud repentant wailings ; on her lips 
Imprints vain kisses — by her side outstretched 
Lamenting lies in anguish, mourning much 
That he had rashly wronged her with a charge 
Of foulest baseness ; late deploring now 
That by one stroke of two most tender parents 
He is bereft. Such deeds are wrought within, 
And who from henceforth shall presume to count 
But on one day of life, I hold unwise ; 



TRACHINIJE. 63 



To-morrow is not in the grasp of man, 
Until the present sun go down in safety. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE AND ANTISTROPHE I. 

Which miseries claim mine earliest tear, 
Which fraught with anguish most severe \ 
My sorrowing soul explores in vain ! 
These in yon palace I descry, 
And those await th' expectant eye, — 
To feel or fear is equal pain. 

STROPHE II. 

that some tempest wind, 

From these devoted towers would rise, 
And waft me far to foreign skies, 
Lest with distracted mind 
When I behold Jove's martial son, 

1 perish at the sight alone ! 
Homeward, they say, the chief returns ; 
While in his breast, returned to die, 
Th' immedicable fever burns, 

A marvel in his agony ! 



64 TEACHING. 



ANTISTROPHE II. 

'Tis not for distant woe 

I pour lone Philomel's sad strain ; 

Advancing lo ! a stranger-train :— 

Bear they the Chieftain now ? 

With slow and noiseless step they wend, 

As watchful o'er a suffering friend. 

Ah ! he is borne, in silence deep 

Reclined; — nor can I yet explore 

If his dread pangs are soothed in sleep, 

Or stilled in death for evermore. 



HERCULES, BORNE BY ATTENDANTS, HYLLUS, 
CHORUS. 

Hyl. Alas ! alas for thee, 
My father ! how thy sufferings rend my heart ! 
What shall I do ? how aid thee ? — Misery ! 

Att. Hush, hush, my son, nor thus revive 
Thy frenzied father's maddening pain ; 
He lives, though soon to die. Close, close thy lips 
In resolute silence. 

Hyl. Dost thou say he lives 1 



TRACHINliE. 65 

Att. Thou wouldst not wake him, now in sleep 
enchained, 
My son, nor in his breast revive 
That keen distracting malady. 

Hyl. Nay ; but my frenzied mind 
Is struggling with intolerable woe. 

Here. O Jove ! 
Ah whither am I borne ? with whom 
Of mortals, racked with ceaseless pangs, 
Am I now laid ? Woe, woe, unhappy me ! 
Again the fever burns — alas ! again. 

Att. Hadst thou not learnt 'twere better far 
To bear in silence, than dispel 
Sleep from his heavy lids and throbbing brow ? 

Hyl. Ah ! how could I endure 
To gaze in silence on a sight like this ? 

Here. Ye altars, hallowed on the brow 
Of high Cenaeum's steep, 
For victims slain what meed have ye repaid 
To me, a wretch accursed ? 
O Jove ! 

What shame, ah ! what hast thou imposed ?— 
Oh had I never with these eyes 
Beheld it ; — this immitigable wrath 
Of frenzy never in my soul perceived ! 

VOL. II. f 



QQ TRACHINI^. 

What charmed strain — what healing hand, 

Save thine, Eternal Sire, can soothe 

These ever-gnawing pangs to rest? 

O could I hail, far off, such marvel now ! 

O agony ! away, away, 

And leave me, — leave the wretched to repose, — 

Yes ; leave me to my doom. 

Where dost thou touch ? — Where lay me now ? 

Ah! thou wilt kill, wilt kill me — thou hast 

roused 
The pang that seemed to sleep. 
O how thy very touch 
Shoots anguish through my frame, — again 
The fell disease steals on me. Where are ye 
O most unjust of Greece, for whom full oft 
Have I, engaged with monsters on the wave 
And in all forest wilds, emperilled life ; 
Yet, in mine anguish, none will bring me now 
Or fire, or welcome sword ; no hand 
Will grant me glad release 
From this accursed life ! 
Woe, woe, unutterable woe ! 

Att. Son of the hero ! — this sad task transcends 
My feebler frame ; aid thou ; to his relief 
Thine eye is quicker. 



TRACHINI^. 67 

Hyl. I indeed support him ; — 
But to relieve his pangs, around, within, 
I see no helper — Jove alone can aid us. 

Here. Where art thou, O my son, my son ! 
Here, stay me here, and raise my fainting frame. 
Ah miserable doom ! 

Again it springs, it springs upon me now, 
Th' immedicable pest 
That drives me to the tomb ! 
Pallas, again it maddens ! O my son, 
Have pity on thy father — bare thy sword — 
Strike — none can blame thee — heal the piercing pangs 
Thy impious mother caused, whom may I see 
Fall thus, e'en thus, as she hath wrought my fall. 
Brother of Jove, kind Hades, hear ! 
Soothe, soothe me to repose ; — 
With swift-descending doom 
Compose the wretch in death ! 

Ch. How have I trembled but to hear the woes, 
Which wring the bosom of the suffering Hero. 

Here. I who with daring hand and vigorous frame 
Have wrought the matchless deeds no words can tell, 
Ah never yet from Jove's indignant Queen, 
Or the abhorred Eurystheus, have I met 
Such burning pangs as GEneus' treacherous daughter 

f 2 



68 TRACHINLE. 

Enwove in this false net, this robe, the work 

Of vengeful Furies, which consumes me now. 

Adhering to my side, it hath devoured 

Th' external skin, and clinging fast within 

It drains the vital parts — the vigorous blood 

It hath absorbed, and withered all my frame, 

Bound fast in these inextricable toils. 

This not th'embattled host, nor towering brood 

Of earth-begotten Titans, nor the might 

Of monsters fell, nor Greek, nor barbarous foe, 

Nor those untraversed regions, where I passed 

To rid the world of villains, e'er achieved ;— 

I fall not ev'n by man ; a woman's hand 

Slew me, unaided, and without a sword. 

Thou, then, my son, if thou indeed art mine, I 

Revere no more thy mother's blighted name. 

O give her to my vengeance, by thy hand 

Dragged sternly forth — thy hand, that I may learn 

If thou lament her fall — or mine — more deeply, 

When thou shalt see my righteous vengeance smite 

her. 
Come, O my son ! dare this. Ah ! pity me, 
Whom all must pity, wailing now in tears, 
Like a weak girl. Such, ere this fatal day, 
No mortal eye hath e'er beheld in me, 



TRACHINJUE. 69 

For all my sufferings never forced a groan, 

Though in these pangs I seem a very woman. 

Come now — beside thy dying father stand, 

Gaze on the plague that fires my soul to madness — 

I throw aside my vests — come all, and look — 

Look on this form, thus wofully consumed ; 

Behold mine anguish — pity my despair ! 

Ah miserable me ! 

Again the pangs are on me, through my frame 

Again they thrill — this fell devouring pest 

Yields not a moment's pause from agony. 

King of the shades, receive me — 

Strike me, thou bolt of Jove. 

O King, O Father, hurl thy lightning-dart 

Full on this head. Ah me, again it wakes, 

It burns, it maddens. O my hands, my hands, 

My back, my breast, my yet unconquered arms, 

Was it with you I slew Nemea's pest, 

Terror of flocks, the vast and tameless lion ? 

Was it your might that crushed the dragon plague 

Of Lerna ; — and the troop — to mortal form 

Who joined the courser's fleetness, lawless — proud — 

Haughty in corporal might ; — did ye too slay 

The Erymanthian boar, and curb in chains 

The triple-headed guardian of the shades, 



70 TEACHING. 

Till then unconquered, the infernal brood 
Of fell Echidna ; — and the dragon-guard 
Of golden fruit in Earth's remotest climes ? — 
These, with unnumbered conquests I achieved, 
While none o'er me a victor's trophy raised. 
Yet nerveless now, with torn and wasting frame, 
I pine devoted with this dark, dark curse, — 
I, who a mother of the noblest vaunt; — 
I, who in Heaven was styled the Son of Jove. 
But know ye this, though I am nothing now, 
And my famed might is nothing, I will yet 
Requite the deed on her who caused my ruin. 
First let her come, that, by experience taught, 
Her doom may tell, that not in life alone, 
But even in death, I did repay the guilty. 

Ch. Unhappy Greece ! o'er thee what grief 

impends, 
If thou shalt lose thy best and bravest Hero. 

Hyl. Since, O my father, thou dost grant reply, 
With patient silence, though in anguish, hear me. 
Nought will I ask which justice would deny. 
Grant me thyself— not as by maddening pangs 
Exasperate — thus thou canst not learn from whence 
Relief should spring, and where thy pains are 

causeless. 



TRACHINI^l. 71 

Here. Speak what thou wilt, but briefly. Tor- 
tured thus, 
I trace no meaning in thy measured words. 

Hyl. Tis of my mother I approach to speak, 
Her present state, and most unwitting error. 

Here. O thou most shameless ! Dar'st thou but 

to name 
Thy father's murderer, and must I too hear thee ? 
Hyl. Silence at such a crisis ill becomes me. 
Here. It ill becomes thee on her former crimes — 
Hyl. Thou wilt not call them by so harsh a name. 
Here. Speak — but beware lest thou be proved a 

villain. 
Hyl. I speak. In recent death my mother lies. 
Here. By whom? — This wonder seems to verge 

on falsehood. 
Hyl. By her own hand — no stranger struck the 

blow. 
Here. Ah ! ere she met her righteous meed from 

mine? 
Hyl. Thou wouldst restrain thy wrath, if all were 

told thee. 
Here. Thy words excite surprise — declare thy 

meaning. 



72 TUACHINliE. 

Hyl. In the whole deed she erred — her thought 
was guiltless. 

Here. Guiltless, thou base one ! Was thy father's 
death 
A guiltless deed ? 

Hyl. Deeming by mystic charms 
To fix thy wandering love, she widely erred. 

Here. Who is of Trachis thus in magic skilled 1 

Hyl. The Centaur Nessus at his death beguiled her 
By this false philtre to inflame thy love. 

Here. Ah me, unhappy ! now my doom is sealed. 
I die — I die — yon light is mine no more. 
I see the fatal measure of my woe. 
Come, O my son, thou hast no more a father; 
Summon thy brothers and my children hither; 
Call, too, the sad Alcmena — vainly styled 
The consort of high Jove ; that all may hear 
My last portentous oracle of death. 

Hyl. Thy mother is not here ; but hence hath 
past, 
And by the shore at Tiryns holds her court ; 
Some of thy children share her fostering love, 
Some dwell in Thebes afar. We, who are here, 
In duteous care, my father, round thee stand, 



TEACHING. 73 

To hear thy dying mandates, and obey them. 
Here. Thou then observe my charge ; 'tis now 
the time 
To prove thy manly virtue, and assert 
The honours of thy name, Alcides' son. 
Long since my sire's sure oracle declared 
That by no living mortal should I fall, 
But by some habitant of Pluto's realm. 
This, this is he, the Centaur ; this by Fate 
Foretold ; who, long reposing with the dead, 
Slew me, though living. Now will I reveal 
New oracles, accordant with the old, 
And a like doom denouncing, which I heard 
What time I reached the Selli's sacred grove, 
(A hardy race, who o'er the mountains roam, 
And on the cold earth rest,) and from the oak 
Of my great Father, on my tablets graved — 
This very hour, it presaged, should appear 
The close of all the toils by Fate assigned. 
I dreamed of peace and gladness, while to me 
It boded nought but death ; for toil no more 
Invades the peaceful slumber of the tomb. 
Since, then, the end is certain, O my son ! 
Befits thee now to lend thy willing aid, 
Nor wait a sterner and more angry charge, 



74 TRACHINLE. 

But yield thy help spontaneous, of all laws 
Deeming it noblest to obey thy father. 

Hyl. Though, O my Father, with alarm I hear 
A charge like this, I will in all obey thee. 

Here. First give me thy right hand— in solemn 
pledge. 

Hyl. Wherefore so warmly urge this pledge 
of faith ? 

Here. Wilt thou not yield it quickly, nor with- 
stand 
Thy father's pleasure ? 

Hyl. Lo ! I give my hand, 
And will in nought refuse thee. 

Here. By the head 
Of Jove, my Father, swear. 

Hyl. Swear to do what ? 
Say this, and I assent. 

Here. Swear to perform 
The task I shall impose. 

Hyl. Yea, I do swear, 
And call dread Jove to witness. 

Here. If thou'rt false, 
Invoke his wrath upon thee. 

Hyl. That were needless ; 
For I will do it — yet invoke the curse. 



TRACKING. 75 

Here. Know'st thou the brow of (Eta, dear to 
Jove ? 

Hyl. I know. Oft have I there the victim slain. 

Here. Thither with thine own hand befits thee now 
To bear this body, with thy chosen friends ; — 
And stripping from the deeply-rooted oak 
Its branching honours, and the olive wild, 
Construct a pyre, and there my body place. 
Then, waving high the redly-blazing torch, 
Fire the vast pile — yet not a tear be shed — 
If thou art mine indeed, without a groan, 
Without a tear perform it ; and if not, 
Though with the dead, my curse shall track thy path, 
And hang most heavy on thy soul for ever. 

Hyl. What hast thou said, my father? — what 
enjoined ? 

Here. What thou must straight perform ; — if not, 
henceforth 
I am thy father, thou my son, no more. 

Hyl. Ah ! to what deed of horror wouldst thou 
call me ? — 
To be a murderer and a parricide ! 

Here. To this I call thee not. Be but the balm, 
The only healer of thy father's pangs. 

Hyl. How can I heal thee, lighting thus the pyre ? 



76 TEACHING. 

Here. If here thou shrink, at least fulfil the rest. 

Hyl. I will not shrink to bear thee as thou said'st. 

Here. And as I charged thee, wilt thou rear the 
pile? 

Hyl. So that my hands touch not the fatal flame, 
The rest I will perform — the task be mine. 

Here. This will suffice. Add now one trivial grace 
To dearer favours, and I part in peace. 

Hyl. Though it were most momentous, I will do it. 

Here. Thou know'st the virgin-child of Eurytus. 

Hyl. If right I deem, of Iole thou speakest. 

Here. The same. And thus, my son ! do I com- 
mand thee. 
When I am dead, if thou revere thy father, 
And art observant of thy filial oath, 
Make her thy bride, nor spurn thy sire's behest. 
No mortal save thyself should e'er espouse 
Th' affianced bride of Hercules. My son, 
Let her become thy consort— yield this grace — 
Though thou concede a greater, this denied, 
Thy whole assent is valueless. 

Hyl. Alas! 
Wrath ill befits in miseries like thine ; 
But who can bear these wild and wayward ravings ? 

Here. Thou wilt not then obey thy father's will ? 



TRACHINLZE. 77 

Hyl. Nay, who, by vengeful Furies unconstrained, 
Could wed the author of a mother's death, 
A father's sufferings, keen and fierce as thine ? 
Nay, nay, my father, rather let me die, 
Than live united to a foe so hateful. 

Here. This man, it seems, accounts a dying father 
Unworthy of regard. But Heaven's dread curse 
Shall surely wait thee, if thou still obey not. 

Hyl. Alas ! I deem ere long thou wilt confess 
The fell disease beguiled thee. 

Here. Thou alone 
Reviv'st the slumbering pangs. 

Hyl. Wretch that I am! 
What doubts distract my soul ! 

Here. And yet thy soul 
Disdains obedience to a father's bidding. 

Hyl. And would my father teach an impious 
part? 

Here. It is not impious, if it be my pleasure. 

Hyl. And canst thou then with justice thus com- 
mand me? 

Here. I can — and call the Gods to prove my truth. 

Hyl. Then I will do it, nor resist thee more, 
Appealing to the Gods thy will constrained me. 
I cannot err, if I obey my father. 



78 TRACHINI*:. 

Here. Well dost thou close. Now to thy fa- 
vours add 
One more — and promptly ; ere returning pangs 
Drive me to madness, place me on the pyre. 
Come, haste, support me ; — there of every toil 
The close awaits me. — Death is rest for all. 

Hyl. There is no cause to linger, since thy charge, 
My father, bids — compels us to obey thee. 

Here. Come then, bold heart ! and ere the pain 
Returns, — as with an adamantine curb 
Close, close my lips, that not a groan 
May force its way. This last sad task 
Is glad and welcome now. 

Hyl. Raise him, attendants, and absolve 
Me from the guilt of this dark deed; — 
And, conscious of the fatal act, 
Ascribe th' injustice to the Gods ; 
They gave him being — bear the name. 
Of Fathers, yet can view his pangs unmoved. 
Fond man the future ne'er descries ; 
To us with woe the present teems, 
And to the Gods with shame ; 
But falls with heaviest shock the blow 
On him who bears these ills. 



TRACHINOE. 79 

Ch. Nor ye, virgins, in your homes remain ; 
Ye have beheld the mighty fall, 
Beheld these recent woes—unnumbered — strange : — 
But all were wrought by Jove's disposing hand. 

[Exeunt Omnes. 



AJAX. 



AJAX. 



The tragedy of Ajax is, perhaps, the least inter- 
esting, though by no means the least elaborate, 
among the dramas of Sophocles. We have already 
adverted to the very indifferent portraiture which it 
presents of the celebrated " Goddess of Wisdom," 
nor can it with safety be affirmed, that the defici- 
encies of the Divinity are, in this instance at least, 
counterbalanced by the excellencies of the Hero. 
With all the allowance which can be extended by 
the most indulgent reader to the repelling descrip- 
tion of mental aberration, it cannot but be acknow- 
ledged, that the spectacle of the mighty and mar- 
tial Ajax, committing nightly depredations upon 

g 2 



84 AJAX. 

the flocks and herds, scourging and decapitating the 
unoffending and harmless rams, even under the im- 
pression that they were his mortal enemies, - — to say 
the least — savours somewhat of the ludicrous. And it 
requires a more than ordinary exertion of the faculty 
of intellectual abstraction, so far to obliterate from 
the mind the remembrance of the Hero's degradation, 
as adequately to relish those beautiful passages 
which are interspersed throughout the play, con- 
trasting the sublimity of terrific madness and reso- 
lute desperation with the mild, yet importunate, 
earnestness of the tenderest conjugal affection. 

In this drama, also, the poet appears to have 
condescended more than usual in the artful intro- 
duction of passages, calculated only to produce 
stage effect. It is, or was some years since, the 
constant practice of a British audience to applaud 
most vociferously on any allusion to the glories of 
" Old England," however remote from, or incon- 
sistent with, the business of the piece under repre- 
sentation. In like manner, it is to be imagined, 
was the noisy patriotism of an Athenian mob called 
forth by the encomiums of their native city. At 
least, it is difficult to account for the forced and 



AJAX. 85 

unnecessary recurrence of the same subject on any 
other supposition. 

We shall, perhaps, be suspected of not enter- 
taining even a proper and reasonable partiality for 
our author, if we proceed to notice a circumstance, 
which is only worthy of notice on account of its 
singularity — that in this drama Sophocles has 
descended to a pun ; a pun, uttered under the most 
agonizing circumstances, and uttered, too, by Ajax, 
who. according to the concurrent testimony of ancient 
authors, does not appear, at any time, to have en- 
joyed the reputation of a wit. It can hardly be 
urged, that these conceits in tragedy are either 
necessary or natural, though it is certain, that the 
poet who, of all others, has adhered most rigidly 
to nature, is most vehemently addicted to the prac- 
tice of punning. 

It is time, however, to enumerate some of the 
excellencies of this drama ; and, perhaps, it is not 
one of the least striking, that, in the delineation of 
the several personages, the poet has accurately 
preserved the Homeric character. The resolute, 
though somewhat brutal, hardihood of Ajax—the 



86 AJAX. 

contemptible malignity of Menelaus — the arbitrary 
selfishness of Agamemnon — and the supple versati- 
lity of that " much enduring " man, whose cold-cal- 
culating policy would never allow him to sin gra- 
tuitously, are admirably portrayed. We recog- 
nise at once the personages with whom we are so 
familiarly conversant ; and recognise them in per- 
fect consistence with those cherished preposses- 
sions, the violation of which no originality could 
excuse. 

Tecmessa is, unquestionably, a most interesting 
character. Her affection for Ajax combines the 
deep tenderness of a consort with the patient en- 
durance of a slave ; and her mild, yet earnest, re- 
monstrances are not the less affecting, because 
Ajax, in the asperity of his replies, seems to re- 
member that he is her master as well as her hus- 
band. It would, however, materially detract from 
the interest which we take in the amiable Phrygian, 
did we suppose, according to the interpretation of 
some translators, that the lord of her affections had 
been the murderer of her mother. The passage, 
however, upon which this notion is founded, as 
we shall notice in its proper place, appearing sus- 



AJAX. 87 

ceptible of a different rendering, we have not 
scrupled to adopt it, convinced that we have, at 
least, two powerful authorities in our favour, — rea- 
son and nature. 

" The scene is before the tent of Ajax, the last 
in station — so that it has the camp and fleet of the 
Grecians stretching along the shore to the west, 
a valley terminated by Mount Ida lying to the 
east." 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Minerva. 

Ulysses. 

A J AX. 

Chorus of Salaminian Sailors. 

Tecmessa. 

Messenger. 

Teucer. 

Menelaus. 
Agamemnon. 



MUT^E PERSONS. 

Eurysaces, Son of Ajax. 

Tutor. 

Herald. 



AJAX. 



MINERVA, ULYSSES. 

Min. Son of Laertes, I have ever marked thee 
Forming some new attempt against thy foes, 
And now I see thee at the naval tent 
Of Ajax, 1 on the camp's remotest verge, 
Long keenly hunting, and with measured care 
Tracking his latest footsteps, if he be 
Without, or in the tent. Thine active search, 
True as the quick scent of the Spartan hound, 
Leads thee in season hither. He whom thus 



E'en Ajax and Achilles heard the sound, 
Whose ships, remote, the guarded navy bound." 

Horn. II. xi. 111. 



90 AJAX. 

Thou seek'st, is now within, his temples yet 
Reeking with sweat, his hands distilling gore. 
Within his gate no longer need'st thou pry ; 
But speak the purpose that impelled thy speed, 
That thou mayst learn from one who knows the 
whole. 
TJlys. O accents of Minerva, to my soul 
Dearest of Powers immortal, how mine ear 
Thy welcome voice perceives, and with my mind 
I grasp the sounds, though thou art viewless still, 
Clear as the Tuscan trumpet's * echoing clang ! 
Well dost thou know my circling steps pursue 
A foe, bold Ajax of the massy shield ; 
Him, and no other, do I track so long. 



z KuSuv, Tintinnabulum. In its proper signification, a little 
bell, used in camps, at the sound of which the soldiers were 
expected to answer. When applied to a trumpet it denotes 
the bell or broad part. The Tuscan Trumpet, EaTwyl 
Tvgo-wUv), was invented by the Tyrrhenians. Its orifice was 
cleft, and sent forth an exceeding loud and shrill sound. 
Tyrrhenusque tubae mugire per aethera clangor. 

Virg. JEn. viii. 526. 

It may here be proper to remark, that when the Deities in- 
terposed in favour of mortals, they rarely became visible. 
Comp. Eurip. Hippol. 83-86. 



A J AX. 91 

This very night to us hath he achieved 
Deeds most unlooked for, if those deeds be his : 
For nought we clearly know, but wander lost 
In vague surmise. Spontaneous I incurred 
This arduous toil. We found but now the herds, 
The prize of battle, weltering in their blood ; 
Slain, with their keepers, by some ruthless hand, 
All charge the crime on Ajax: o'er the plain 
One who kept watch beheld him proudly stalk 
With lofty strides, and newly-reeking sword. 
He said, and proved it. I, by him apprized, 
Pursue the track ; some signs I clearly trace, — 
Some fill me with amazement, — and I learn 
No sure conclusion. In glad hour thou com'st, — 
My former acts were all inspired by thee ; 
Be thou director of my future deeds. 

Min. I knew it well, Ulysses, and long since 
Came forth to guide thee in thy venturous path, 
Propitious to thy toils. 

Ulys. Say, Queen beloved, 
Do I thus toil aright ? 

Min. Thou dost ; this man 
Hath done the deed. 

Ulys. What urged his raging hand 
To such strange acts of frenzy ? 



92 A J AX. 

Min. Fired by wrath 
For great Achilles' arms. 

Ulys. Why rushed he thus 
On senseless cattle ? 

Min. In your blood he thought 
He then embrued his hand. 

Ulys. Planned he this deed 
Against the Argives ? 

Min. Had I been remiss, 
He had achieved it. 

Ulys. With what bold intent, 
What arrogance of soul? 

Min. 'Gainst you he rushed 
Alone, a night-marauder ! 

Ulys. Did he reach 
E'en to his purposed goal? 

Min. Yea ; to the gates 
Of the two Chiefs he came. 

Ulys. What still withheld 
His hand, intent on slaughter ? 

Min. To his sight, 
Raising intolerable fancies wild 
That cureless joy I checked, — and on the flocks 
I turned his wrath — the herdsmen's mingled charge, 
The spoils of battle, undivided still. 



AJAX. 93 

Rushing on these, throughout the horned droves 
He spread destruction, smiting all around ; 
Now fondly deemed he by his vengeful hand 
The two Atridse fell ; then sought the rest, 
Now striking one — and now another chief. 
I urged him still, and lured to evil toils 
The man, misled by phrenzy's impulse wild. 
Next, when he rested from his murderous task, 
The oxen that survived in chains he bound ; 
And to his tent the herd upbraiding drove, 
Like men, the captives of his conquering spear. 
These fettered in his tent he scourges now. 
Nay, I will show thee his distempered mood, 
That to the Argives thou mayst bear the tale. 
Rest undismayed, nor as some dangerous ill 
Receive the man ; for I will turn aside 
His erring glance, nor shall he mark thy presence. — 
Hear, thou who bind'st thy captives' hands in chains, 
I call thee forth to meet me. Ho ! — I call 
Ajax, — appear without thy tent before me. 

Ulys. What wilt thou do, Minerva? call him not! 

Min. Wilt thou not rest in silence, and unawed ? 

Ulys. Call him not forth, by Heaven! but let 
him rest 
Within. 



94 AJAX. 

Min. And wherefore ? Was he not before — 

Ulys. My foe, I own ; and doubly hateful now. 

Min. What laugh so sweet as that which scorns 
a foe? 

Ulys. Enough for me that he remain within. 

Min. And dost thou tremble to behold a madman? 

Ulys. I ne'er had shunned him when in saner mood. 

Min. He shall not see thee, though thou stand 
before him. 

Ulys. How, if he views me with the self-same eyes ? 

Min. I will obscure perception, though he see. 

Ulys. All things may happen, when a God 
directs. 

Min. Stand now in silence where thou art. 

Ulys. I stand. 
I would I were afar. 

Min. Aj ax— come forth ; 
A second time I call thee. Wherefore thus 
Art thou unmindful of thy great ally ? 

Enter Aj ax. 

MINERVA, ULYSSES, AJAX. 

Aj. Hail ! O Minerva ; daughter of high Jove, 
All hail ! in happy moment art thou come ! 



AJAX. 95 

Thee too with golden offerings will I crown 
For this glad booty. 

Min. Thou hast spoken well. 
But tell me first, hast thou embrued thy sword 
Deep in the life-blood of the Argive host ? 

Aj. Such is my boast ; nor will I e'er disclaim 
The glorious deed. 

Min. And hast thou raised thy spear 
Against th' Atridse ? 

Aj. So that never more 
Shall they dishonour Ajax ! 

Min. If I hear 
Aright, the men are dead. 

Aj. Aye ; let the dead 
Now rob me of mine arms. 

Min. 'Tis well : and where 
Is now Laertes' son ? What doom is his ? 
Hath he escaped thy vengeance? 

Aj. Dost thou ask 
Of that insidious villain ? 

Min. Of the same — 
I mean Ulysses, thy detested rival. 

Aj. Fettered he sits within, a welcome sight. 
Death is a boon I will not grant him yet. 



; AJAX. 

Min. What wilt thou do, what further vantage 



win : 
Aj. First to the columns of my hall fast-bound — 
Min. What ill design'st thou to th' unhappy 

wretch ? 
Aj. This scourge shall mark him deeply ere he die. 
Min. Nay, do not thus at least insult the foe. 
Aj. In all beside thy pleasure shall prevail ; 
But he shall bear this vengeance, this alone. 

Min. Thou, then, since it delights thee thus 
to act, 
Indulge thy hand, nought of thy purpose spare. 

Aj. I hasten to the task ; but pray thee first, 
Ever to aid me, as thou aid'st me now. 

[Exit A j ax. 



MINERVA, ULYSSES. 

Min. Thou see'st, Ulysses, Heaven's resistless 
might. 
Who was more prudent than bold Ajax once, 
And who more daring in the hour of need ? 



AJAX. 97 

Ulys. I know of none ; but now he moves my 

pity. 

Thus plunged in misery, though my deadliest foe, 
Who now is struggling with such weighty ills, 
His fate regarding as mine own may fall. 
I see that we who live are nothing more 
J Than a vain image and a fleeting shade. 

Min. This then observing, dare not thou to 
breathe 
High words of swollen pride against the Gods ; \ 
Nor boast presumptuous, if in martial deeds 
Or treasured wealth thou pass thy fellow man. 
A day o'erthrows, a day to light restores 
All mortal things — and still the heavenly Powers 
Regard the lowly, while they loathe the proud. 

[Exeunt Minerva and Ulysses. 



3 Pulvis et umbra sumus. — Hor. 

We are such stuff 



As dreams are made of. 






Shakspeare. 




Ovs^cirm 


AAiyxtoi ^op^ai<7». 






Prom. Vinct. 457. 


OL. II. 


H 



98 AJAX. 



Chorus. 



son of Telamon, whose sway 
The shores of Salamis obey, 

Wet with encircling ocean's spray ; 

1 triumph in thy fame : — 

But when th' indignant stroke of Jove 

Descends, or slanderous Greeks reprove, 

Then, timid as the fluttering dove, 

I sink with fear and shame. 

As from the night that now hath fled, 

Loud rumours wake our liveliest dread ; 

Tis said, that rushing to the plain, 

By thee the captured herds were slain, 

To Grecian valour due ; 

All that of martial spoils remain 

Thy sword infuriate slew. 

Such slanders doth Ulysses bear, 

Such whispers breathe in every ear, 

And much prevails ; — mid the low train 

His calumnies glad credence gain ; — 

As he who speaks, so they who hear 

Insulting mock thy pain. 

He rarely errs who flings on high, 

At gallant souls, his contumely ; 



AJAX. 99 

Whilst I, of lowlier lot, evade 

The penalty by greatness paid ; 

For envy steals with silent aim 

On nobler worth and loftier fame. 

And though the mean, apart from power 

But ill support the tottering tower ; 

As they, to greatness linked, are strong, 

So greatness needs the meaner throng. 

Yet thus to teach th' insensate train 

E'en wisdom's self might speak in vain. 

From such the clamorous tumults flow, 

And powerless we to curb the foe, 

Without our Chieftain's aid ; 

Like babbling birds, while yet by thee 

Unseen, they vent their calumny ; 

But, like the vulture in his might, 

Shouldst thou, O King ! appear in sight, 

Soon would they urge their conscious flight, 

Confounded and dismayed. 

STROPHE. 

Did Dian, 4 Queen of Tauris, Child of Jove, 



4 Tat^oTiroXa. According to Brunck, vecta tauris; Lobeck, 
however, inclines to the sense of huntress of bulls. The 

H 2 



100 AJAX. 

(O widely spreading fame, 
The parent of my shame ! ) 
Against the public herds thy frenzy move, 
Incensed by vows of conquest yet unpaid ; 
Perchance defrauded of the promised spoil, 
Or victims vowed for hunter's prosperous toil 1 
Or did the brazen-mailed Mars invade 
Thy breast with nightly wiles, avenging here 
The wrong thine arms have wrought to his con- 
federate spear ? 

ANTISTROPHE. 

5 Not in the vigour of thy manly mind 
This erring deed was done, 
O child of Telamon ! 

Diana Taurica was worshipped at Brauron, a village of At- 
tica ; but if these rites were instituted subsequently to the 
carrying off Iphigenia from Tauris by Orestes, the poet, if 
our translation be correct, has been guilty of a gross ana- 
chronism. We must, however, concede somewhat to that 
poetical license, which puts a saying of Solon into the mouth 
of Deianira. 

Euripides, Iph. in Tauris, 1457, has the same epithet: 

And celebrate in hymns the Tauric Maid. 

West. 
5 <I> ? evo9sk y int «§i5-e§a. Si mens non laeva fuisset. — Virg. 



AJAX. 101 

Thy fatal frenzy was by Heaven assigned. 

Phcebus, and Jove avert the dire disgrace ! 

But if the mighty Kings, to blast thy fame, 

Suborned the vulgar to these words of shame, 

Or he of 6 Sisyphus' accursed race, 

No more, O Monarch, in thy tent delay, 

With eyes enchained to earth, to foul reports a prey. 

EPODE. 

Rise from thy seat, O King, where all too long 
In lingering anguish thou hast borne the wrong, 
Feeding the wrathful curse of Heaven ; — 
Thy fearless foes through every sheltered vale, 
With vaunting insult speed the slanderous tale ; 
And all with scoffing tongues on thee 
Pour foul reproach and injury, 
While my sad heart with settled grief is riven. 

Enter Tec mess a. 



6 Anticlea, the mother of Ulysses, is said to have been 
violated by Sisyphus, prior to her union with Laertes. Hence 
Virgil, iEn. vi. 529. " Hortator scelerum bolides." Sisy- 
phus was the son of iEolus. 



102 A J AX. 



TECMESSA, CHORUS. 

Tec. Ye, from the 7 earth-born Erectheidae sprung-, 
Great Ajax' naval band, 
Well may we mourn, who from afar regard 
The house of Telamon ! 
The brave, the bold, the matchless Ajax lies, 
Sunk by the turbid storm 
Of raging frenzy low. 

Ch. How hath this night to heaviest sorrow 
changed 
The fortunes of the day ! 
Daughter of Phrygian 8 Teuthras, since with thee, 



7 Erectheus, son of Pandion, and sixth King of Athens. 
But, according to others, he is reported to have been the son 
of Vulcan and the Earth. It is well known, that the Athe- 
nians piqued themselves on the aritiquity of their descent; 
hence Creon addresses them, in the (Edip. Col. 728. 

This is, in the present instance, merely a political stroke to 
flatter the Athenians. 

s Teleutas in the text, buf, according to some, Teuthras. 



AJAX. 103 

Though captured by his spear, great Ajax shares 
The bridal couch of love ; — 

Speak, for thou know'st, and canst impart the 
whole. 

Tec. How shall I breathe what words can never 
tell? 
Of evils thou wilt hear more keen than death. 
Our noble Ajax, by one frantic deed 
This night is branded with eternal shame. 
Within yon tent mayst thou behold, 
Bathed in their blood, the victims of his wrath, 
The slaughter of his hand ! 

Ch. What tidings of the fiery warrior these, 
Nor to be borne nor shunned ; — 
Already whispered 'mid the mighty chiefs, 
And which, ere long, will gathering rumours swell ! 
Alas ! I presage ill ! The hero soon 
Will fall indignant by the same rash hand 
Which, armed by madness, slew with vengeful sword 
The herdsmen and their charge. 

Tec. Thence, thence, alas ! he came, and drove 
The herd, like captives, to his tent; 
Some, stretched on earth, he slew within, 
Plunged deep the sword in some, and clave in twain. 
Two rams with snow-white feet he chose ; — the head 



104 AJAX. 

And tongue of one he lopped and cast away ; — ■ 
The other, to a column bound erect, 
Seizing his chariot's weighty rein, he lashed 
As with a double scourge, mocking it still 
With keen reproach, which none of mortal race, 
But some ill Power hath taught. 

Ch. Time is it now for each with veiled head 
And silent step to fly ; 

Or mount the bench, and ply the labouring oar, 
To urge along the ocean-ranging bark. 
Such threats on us the brother-chiefs denounce ; 
We too, I fear, crushed by o'erwhelming stones, 
Shall share, ere long, the fortunes of our Lord, 
Whom fate, resistless fate, impels. 

Tec. Impels no more. 9 Swift as the southern blast 
That rose without red lightning, he rushed forth ; — 
As soon is calm. Now, cooler sense restored, 
He feels a fresh affliction ; since to gaze 
On evils all our own, which none beside 
Partakes, is keener woe. 



9 The Scholiast informs us, that those who are acquainted 
with the nature of the winds have observed, that when the 
south rises, not attended with lightning, its violence soon 
ceases. — Potter. See Theophrastus, De Signis Ventorum. 



A J AX. 105 

Ch. If he be calm, then all may yet be well ; 
Our cares are less for ills already vanished. 

Tec. Which, if the choice were thine, wouldst 
thou prefer ? 
Wouldst thou, thyself at ease, afflict thy friends, 
Or share their common grief in common ills ? 

Ch. The two-fold evil, Lady, is the greater. 

Tec. Thus we, no more diseased, are suffering 
now. 

Ch. What mean thy words ambiguous, for I 
know not 
The tenour of thy speech ? 

Tec. This man, while yet 
The frenzied plague possessed him, in his ills 
Exulted ; we, more sane, were plunged in woe. 
Now, since the respite to his madness came, 
His bosom rankles with a keener pang, 
Nor are our sorrows lighter than before. 
Say, are not these two evils sprung from one ? 

Ch. Thy words are just. I tremble, lest this 
woe 
Be Heaven's own plague. Alas ! how should it not? 
If, the disease now quelled, he joys no more 
Than when it still was raging ? 



106 AJAX. 

Tec. Know thou then, 
Such is his state. 

Ch. And whence arose these ills ? 
Inform us, Lady ; for in all his woes 
We keenly sympathize: 

Tec. Thou shalt hear all, as partner of the deed. 
In the deep midnight, when the ,0 evening lamps 
Glimmered no more, he seized his two-edged sword, 
And, as I deemed, rushed forth without a cause. 
I then remonstrate thus : " What wouldst thou do, 
My Ajax ? why thus issue from thy tent 
Uncalled — unsummoned or by herald's voice 
Or by the signal trumpet ? Now, at least, 



10 "Eo-tte^oi AaprorijgEs. This has been understood to mean 
the stars ; but expressions occurring in various authors, <me^ 
'Kv'/yuv cc<pa.q, Dionys. Hal. xi. ^x^ ^ v x vcov ° t Q uv > Athen. 12, 
" ad extremas lucernas," Propert. Eleg. Ill, (to which we 
may add, pereundum est ante lucernas, Juvenal, x. 339,) are in 
favour of the rendering in the text. "Axgotq wxros, the dead 
of night. Pindar, Isthm. iv. 58 : 

'lart puv A'iavroi; uKy-ocv 
<l>omoi<, ran 6-^/lcx. 

Ell l/VXTl TOLjAUV 7T£§J U) 

<&a.ayMvu, k. t. A. 

Lobeck. 



AJAX. 107 

The host is hushed in sleep." He but replied, 
In words abrupt, that for an adage pass, 
*" Silence, O woman, is a woman's grace." 
Reproved, I ceased ; my Lord went forth alone. 
Meantime, nought knew I of the deeds he wrought. 
At length, the chief returned, driving in bonds 
The bulls, the shepherd-dogs, and horned prey. 
z From some, the heads he severed ; some, on earth 
Laid prostrate, mangled with unsparing sword ; 
Some, bound in fetters, with the sounding scourge, 
Falling upon the flocks, as men, he lashed. 
Last, rushing through the portal, converse there 
He held, as with some spectre, speaking much 
Now of th' Atridse, now Laertes' son, 
Commingling insult keen ; — how, by this deed, 



Tvvctmi yctp atyti te kcu to aa<p^ovtTv 

Euripides. 

So Hector, II. vi. 490. Indeed, ancient as well as modem 
authors seem pretty unanimously agreed on this very im- 
portant subject. 

2 In this, as in several passages of a similar description, 
some deviation from the literal signification of the original has 
been found indispensable. " Some, turning them on their 
backs, he stabbed and hewed through their spine." 



108 AJAX. 

Their guilty outrage he had well repaid. 

But when he bent his course once more within, 

Where, in long time, cool reason scarce returned, 

Soon as he marked the tent with carnage strewed, 

He smote his head in anguish — dashed to earth 

His form — lay prostrate mid the prostrate herds, 

Tearing with ruthless hand his flowing hair. 

Long time in moody silence thus he sate, 

Then turned on me with threats of vehement wrath, 

Unless I truly told the whole event, 

And all the tenour of this fatal act. 

I then, my friends, affrighted, of the deed 

Revealed in trembling accents all I knew. 

Straight he burst forth in loud and long laments, 

Such from his lips I never heard before ; 

For he till then maintained, that wailings wild 

Were the sure symptoms of a coward-heart ,4) 

Nor gave his sorrow utterance, but compressed 

His groanings inward, like the murmuring bull. 

Thus in his tent reclined in evil case, 

Nor food nor drink hath cheered him ; but he sits 

Amidst encircling slaughter mute and stern. 

Some fearful deed he plainly now designs, 

As wandering words and bursting groans declare. 

Ye then, my friends, for in this hope I came, 



A J AX. 109 

Come, if ye can, and aid your gallant chief; 
Oft are such hearts by friendly words subdued. 

Ch. Sad is thy tale, Tecmessa, that a soul 
So noble should be plunged in ills like these. 

Aj. Ah me ! Ah me ! [Within. 

Tec. Soon will his frenzy heighten. Heard ye not 
How deep a groan from wretched Ajax broke? 

Aj. Woe ! woe is me ! [Within. 

Ch. He seems to grapple with his anguish now, 
Or writhes in keen remembrance of the past. 

Aj. Alas ! my son ! my son ! [Within. 

Tec. Ah me ! Eurysaces, for thee he calls ! 
What means he now ? Where art thou ? Wretched 
me ! 

Aj. I call for Teucer — where is Teucer ? Still 
Will he pursue the prey, while I am lost? [Within. 

Ch. Sense hath, it seems, returned. Unclose 
the door; 
Regard for me may haply soothe him yet. 

Tec. Lo ! I unclose it ; thou mayst now be- 
hold 
His frenzied acts and utter wretchedness. 

[Scene opens and discovers Ajax. 



110 AJAX. 



AJAX, TECMESSA, CHORUS. 
STROPHE I. 

Aj. O comrades, most beloved, my only friends, 
Who only honour's law regard; 
Ye see J what bloody waves 
From this tempestuous sea 
Your hapless Lord enclose. 

Ch. Alas ! too true, it seems, hath been thy tale. 
These fatal deeds proclaim how wild his frenzy. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Aj. My brave associates, skilled in naval art, 
To urge the light bark o'er the main ; — 
You, you alone, of all 
Have I yet faithful found ; 
Then slay me, — slay me now. 



3 <J>oma ? lirl ^a.-hnz. This kind of metaphor is of frequent 
occurrence among the Greek tragedians. iEsch. Prom. 771. 
1051. Eurip. Med, 603. Sophocles, Antig. 163. CEdip. 
Tyr. 23. So Shakspeare : 

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And, by opposing, end them. 

Hamlet, act iii. sc. 1. 



AJAX. 1 1 1 

Ch. Speak words of happier import, nor in woe 
Seek for o'erwhelming ills a deadlier cure. 

STROPHE II. 

Aj. See'st thou the bold, the lion-hearted chief, 
Who never yet shrunk back from battle's van, 
Vent his wild rage on herds secure of ill ? — 
Alas ! what scorn, what mockery shall be mine ! 

Tec. My Lord ! my Ajax ! speak not thus, I 
pray thee. 

Aj. Wilt thou not hence ! wilt thou not hence 
retire ? 
O wretch! wretch! wretch! 

Ch. Now by the Gods, my Lord, 
Yield to her prayer, and calm thy frenzied soul. 

STROPHE III. 

Aj. Unhappy! who, from this right hand, 
Let slip the hated foes ; 
And rushing on the sable herds 
And unoffending flocks, 
Drew forth inglorious blood. 

Ch. Why sorrow thus for deeds already done ? 
It cannot be that thou recall the past. 



112 AJAX. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Aj. O all-exploring and of every ill 
The wily instrument, Laertes' son ; 
Thou scorn and scandal of our warlike host ; 
How wilt thou mock and revel in my woes ! 

Ch. As Heaven ordains, so man must smile or 
weep. 

Aj. O could I meet him, though thus sunk in ills. 
Unhappy me ! 

Ch. Nay, do not speak thus proudly ! 
Dost thou not mark the miseries of thy doom? 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

Aj. O Jove ! 4 great father of my sires ! 
Could I but doom to death, 
That specious, scheming foe, and crush 
The sceptre-sharing Kings, 
How gladly would I die ! 

Tec. When thou dost pray for death, ask too 
for me 



4 Ilgoyoiw TrgowaTwg. Ajax was the son of Telamon, the son 
of iEacus, the son of Jove. Thus Ovid, Metam xiii. 

" Ab Jove tertius Ajax." 



AJAX. 113 

The same: how could I live when thou hadst 
perished ? 

STROPHE IV. 

Aj. O darkness, now my light! O shades of hell, 
My brightest radiance now, 
Receive, receive your sad inhabitant; 
Receive me, from this hour 
Unworthy or to look 
On the blest Gods, or on mankind, 
To aid me in my woes. 
The daughter of high Jove, 
The Goddess of unconquerable might, 
Impels me to the tomb. 
Ah ! whither can I fly, 
Or henceforth where abide ? 
Comrades, my former fame is lost 
By these last fatal deeds ; 
My name is sullied by ignoble spoils : 
And soon the host, in vengeance doubly armed, 
Shall seek my life. 

Tec. Alas ! that one so noble should indulge 
In words, which had but waked his scorn before. 

ANTISTROPHE IV. 

Aj. Ye ocean-seeking streams, and sea-girt caves ; 

VOL. II. I 



114 A3AX. 

Thou grove that crowns the shore ; 

Long, long a captive have ye held me here 

Round Troy's beleaguered towers ; 

But — breathing life's free air, 

Shall hold me here no more. — Know this, 

Whoe'er can rightly judge ! 

O Thou, whose limpid streams 

Adjacent flow, Scamander ! to the host 

Of Greece propitious still ; 

Know, never, never more 

Shalt thou behold the man 

(I speak a high and haughty word) 

Whose peer none ever marked 

On Trojan plains, 'mid all the host who sailed 

From Grecian realms ; but now dishonoured thus, 

Prostrate he lies. 

Ch. Nor can I check, nor yet endure thy words, 
So great the evils which enclose thee now. 

Aj. 3 Ah me ! who ever could have deemed my name 



3 'At, a'l — vvv ya.g wa^r* *a* <K? uiclfyiv e^,o» — Ka* Tgtj. The 

pun in this passage is altogether puerile, and unworthy of 
Sophocles. It will, however, bear a comparison with Shak- 
speare's — 

" This is Rome, 
And room enough." — Julius Caesar. 



AJAX. 115 

Should thus be proved accordant with my woes? 
Well may my bosom heave repeated groans, 
Such and so fatal are the ills I bear; — 
I, — whose bold sire from this Idsean strand 
Bore the first trophies mid the victor-host, 
And with unrivalled glory sought his home ; — 
While I, his son, to the same Trojan plain 
Proceeding, and with no inferior might, 
Like deeds of conquest by my sword achieved, 
By Greece dishonoured, thus ignobly die. 
Yet this at least my firm conviction deems ; 
If still the brave Achilles lived t' award 
His arms the guerdon of superior worth, 
No other hand had borne the prize from mine. 
And now th' Atridse grant them to a wretch 
Skilled but in wiles, and on my nobler deeds 
Pour foul contempt. Had not these eyes, this mind 
Beguiled by false illusions, failed my purpose, 
With like decrees they ne'er had wronged another. 
But now the virgin-daughter of high Jove, 
In aspect stern, unconquered, when this hand 
Was stretched to strike in vengeance, foiled my aim, 
And o'er my soul such maddening frenzy cast, 
That on these harmless herds my fury fell ; 
While the base foes, against my will escaped 

i 2 



116 AJAX. 

Laugh in triumphant scorn. But when the Gods 

Oppose him, e'en a coward may evade 

The brave man's vengeance. — What then must I do? 

I, who am clearly hateful to the Gods, 

Nor less abhorred by Greece — while Troy's proud 

towers, 
And these her plains to me are adverse all ? 
This naval post forsaking, shall I leave 
The sons of Atreus, and, with homeward course, 
Plough the iEgean wave ? Then with what eye 
Could I appear in presence of my sire, 
Great Telamon ? — How could he brook to see 
His son return, by martial spoils ungraced, 
Such crown of glory as himself achieved ? 
This is not to be borne. Shall I then rush 
Against the Trojans' rampart, and alone, 
With them alone contending, first perform 
Some glorious deed, and then triumphant fall 1 
Nay, this at least th' Atridse would delight, 
And thence it shall not be. I must explore 
Some path, which to my aged sire may prove 
I share the spirit of his princely line. 
It shames a man to seek protracted life 
Who sees no limit to encircling woes. 
What joy remains, when day succeeds to day, 



AJAX. 117 

For a brief space at best deferring death ? 

I count the man most worthless, who would feed 

His wavering soul with vain delusive hope : 

To live with glory, or with glory die 

Befits the noble. Thou hast heard my thoughts. 

Cho. None will affirm, my Lord, that thoughts 
like these 
Are false and foreign to a soul like thine. 
Yet cease from wrath, and to thine anxious friends 
Display a softened spirit, and dismiss 
These galling cares. 

Tec. O ! Ajax ! my dear Lord, 
No heavier woe hath man than slavery ! 
I was descended from a free-born sire, 
In wealth the proudest of the Phrygian realm ; 
And now I am a slave. So Heaven ordained, 
And such the prowess of thy conquering hand. 
For this, since raised to share thy nuptial couch, 
I count thy welfare mine, and I conjure thee, 
4 By Jove, the guardian of domestic ties, 



4 'E(pE<rria Ato S . — Ephestian Jupiter presided over the hearth 
shared in common by all who dwelt in the same house. — 
Potter. Compare the speech of Andromache to Hector. 
II. vi. 459. 



118 AJAX. 

And by that couch, which binds the sacred vow ; 
Ah ! leave me not a by- word and a taunt 
To thine insulting foes — an easy prey 
To some imperious lord. If thou wilt die 
And, dying, leave me friendless — on that day, 
Be well assured, by brutal force constrained, 
I, with thy son, by Greece shall be consigned 
To abject servitude. Thus then, perchance, 
Shall some rude tyrant breathe the piercing taunt, — 
" Behold the wife of Ajax, who excelled 
" The Grecian chiefs in valour, how her lot, 
" So envied once, is changed to bitter bondage!" 
Thus will they speak, while fate constrains me still ; 
And words like these to thee, and to thy race, 
Are fraught with foul dishonour. O revere 
Thy father, thus abandoned in his age ; 
Revere thy mother, who with many years 
Oppressed, oft, oft implores the Gods once more 
To greet her living Ajax. O my Lord ! 
Have pity on thy son, who, of thy care 
In tender youth bereft, will pine oppressed 
By faithless guardians. Such to him and me 
Thou leav'st in death a legacy of woe. 
Where should I look for refuge, save to thee ? 
Thy conquering arms have laid my country waste. 



AJAX. 119 

And, for my parents, 5 by a different doom 

Both, both are tenants of the silent grave. 

What country could requite me, chief, for thee ? 

What wealth? Thou art my safety, thou alone. 

O then remember me — it ill befits 

A manly bosom to forget whence sprung 

What once it deemed delightful. Kindness still 

Gives birth to kindness. He, from whose cold breast 

Grateful remembrance fades, can never boast 

The grace and glory of a generous soul. 

2>v yotp pm warpta ■n~aiera.<; dopt, 
Kaa pyTsp aKhvi pZipa. rov (pvauvra, te 
KaSaXei/ "Ai^a S«i/a:74/x«s oixijTopa?. 

This is the passage referred to in the prefatory remarks, which, 
if Potter's translation be correct, would give such a decisive 
overthrow to our prepossessions in favour of the unfortunate 
Tecmessa ; and, consequently, so materially diminish the in- 
terest of the drama. Following Brunck, who places the stop 
after pviTsp, he has — 

Beneath thy conquering spear 
My ruined country and my mother sunk. 

We have preferred the arrangement of Lobeck and Erfurdt, 
who punctuate the passage as above; and by that expedient 
altogether evade the difficulty of supposing Ajax to be the 
murderer of the mother of Tecmessa. Matthiae, vol. ii. 418, 
quoting the passage, reads rlv qlaccvra ue — a reading liable to 
great objection,. 



120 AJAX. 

Ch. O were thine heart with pity moved, as mine, 
Her words, my Lord, would win a prompt assent. 

Aj. She will, indeed, command my warmest praise, 
If to my bidding she will dare to yield 
A due obedience. 

Tec. My dear Lord, in all 
Will I obey thee. 

Aj. Bring me then my son 
That I may gaze upon him. 

Tec. In my fears 
I hence removed him. 

Aj. By our recent ills 
Alarmed? or wherefore? 

Tec. Lest the hapless child, 
Encountering thee, should fall beneath thy hand. 

Aj. That were, indeed, congenial with my fate. 

Tec. And to prevent it, I have thus secured him. 

Aj. I praise thy wise precaution in the deed. 

Tec. Say, in what else can I obey thy word ? 

Aj. Let me behold him, and address my son. 

Tec. Thy trusty train protect him near the spot. 

Aj. Why is his presence then so long delayed? 

Tec. My son, thy father calls thee. Of our train, 
Thou, who dost bear the child, haste, bring him in. 

Aj. Say, comes he at thy call, or hears thee not? 



A J AX. 121 

Tec. E'en now th' attendant with his charge is nigh. 

Aj. Bring, bring him hither, for he will not shrink 
At the deep hue of this ensanguined carnage, 
If he, in truth, can rightly call me father. 
Soon should he learn the firm unbending mood 
Of my proud soul, and emulate his sire. 
6 Mayst thou, my son, be happier than thy father ; 
Like him in all beside ; so with the base 
Never shalt thou be numbered. Happy now 
I may pronounce thee, since these present ills 
Are all unfelt by thee. Alas ! how oft, 

When thought is absent, life is most serene, 

* # # # # 

Until thou learn to smile, and to be sad ! 
When thou attain this age, then must thou prove 
To all thy father's foes, from what bold stock 
Thou cam'st — thyself as brave. Meanwhile be nursed 
By sportive breathings, fostering thy young life, 
Thy tender mother's joy. Of all the Greeks 
None, well I know, with hate and foul reproach 
Will ever spurn thee, though bereft of me. 



Disce, puer, virtutem ex me verumque laborem ; 
Fortunam ex aliis. — Virgil, iEn. xii. 434. 



122 AJAX. 

So bold a guardian o'er thee shall I leave 

In Teucer, who will watch thy nurture well, 

Though now, from sight afar, he hunts the foe. 

Ye, too, dear warriors, skilled to stem the wave, 

To you this common office I bequeath, 

Give him my last commands ; that he conduct 

My son to Salamis, and show him there 

To Telamon, and Eribcea old, 

That he may be the solace of their age, 

Till they shall reach the gloomy halls of Death. 

Let not the judges of the strife, nor he, 

My deadliest foe, propose mine arms to Greece, 

The victor's prize ; Eurysaces, my son, 

Bear thou the shield, from which thou draw'st thy 

name, 
Of seven tough hides compact — by hostile spear 
Unperforate, and close knit with many thongs. 
Take this, my son ; be my remaining arms 
Laid with me in the grave. And now with speed 
Bear quickly hence thy child ; close fast the house, 
Nor wail within the tent. 7 Tears promptly spring 
To female eyes. Shut now thy doors with speed. 



7 Tvvt) 3e Sfav, y.ocrri Sangvov; ttpv. — Medea, 924. 



AJAX. 123 

No skilful leech by potent charms can heal 
The wound whose only med'cine is the sword. 

Ch. I quake to hear this prompt and ardent 
charge — 
This language of despair — I like it not. 

Tec. My Lord, my Ajax, what is thy design ? 

Aj. Nay, think not — ask not — prudence most be- 
comes thee. 

Tec. Alas ! what terrors seize me. By thy child, 
Yea, by the Gods, I do conjure thee, pause ; 
Ah, doom us not to ruin ! 

Aj. Thou dost wake 
My heaviest wrath. 8 What! know'st thou not that I 
Owe nought of prayer or reverence to the Gods ? 

Tec. Speak better omens. 



8 Nothing impious is here intended : the words of Ajax 
have the same signification as those of JEneas over the dead 
body of Pallas : 

Nos juvenem exanimum, et nil jam ccelestibus ullis 
Debentem, vano mcesti comitamur honore. 

Potter. 

We cannot concur in this opinion of Potter, into which he 
appears to have been led by extreme partiality for his hero. 
Impiety (see line 127) was a predominant feature in the 
character of Ajax. 



124 AJAX. 

Aj. Prate to those who hear thee. 

Tec. Wilt thou not heed me ? 

Aj. Thou hast said too much ! 

Tec. I fear, my Lord — 

Aj. Will ye not force her in? 

Tec. Be softened, by the Gods ! 

Aj. Thou art bereft 
Of prudence, if thou form the vain design 
To shake the settled temper of my soul. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Famed Salamis, — thy happy shores arise, 
Sublime 'mid ocean, where the wild waves war; 
Thy towering cliffs the distant sail descries ; 
While I, unhappy ! lingering yet afar 
On Ida's pastured plain 
Through long, long years remain, 
Unhonoured, and by withering age opprest; 
Torn with desponding fear, 
Lest darker fate severe 

Dismiss my shuddering soul to Death's drear shades 
unblest. 



AJAX. 125 



ANTISTROPHE I. 

Ah me ! the gallant Ajax, sunk in woes 

No art can heal, augments my anxious care ; 

From Heaven's dread wrath his fatal frenzy rose : 

Whom to the combat, ever foremost there, 

My country, thou hast sent ; 

Whose soul, by madness rent, 

Now in his pitying friends wakes deep dismay. 

His deeds of martial might, 

Achieved in prosperous fight, 

By Atreus' senseless sons unvalued pass away. 

STROPHE II. 

O when, by wasting years 

Worn down, and hoary age, 

An absent mother hears 

This act of frenzied rage ; 

She will not pour the dirge of woe, 

9 Like Philomela, faint and low : 



9 The nightingale is a favourite simile among the Latin 
well as the Greek poets. 

Qualis populea mcerens Philomela sub umbra 
Amissos queritur foetus, &c. 

Virg. Georg. iv. 511. 
So Horn. Od. xix. 518. 



126 A3 AX, 

No ; she will mourn her hapless child, 
With piercing shrieks of vain despair ; 
And smite her breast in anguish wild, 
And rend her scattered locks of silver hair. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

O happier, did he rest 
In death, than thus to pine 
With cureless griefs oppressed ! 
The Chief of lofty line 
Noblest of Greece, whose wiser mood 
Is now by maddening rage subdued. 
Ah wretched sire ! what keen regret 
Awaits thee for thy hapless son ! 
Plunged deep in heaviest woes, as yet 
To all thy princely race, save him, unknown ! 
Aj. Time, in his lengthened and unmeasured 
course, 
Reveals things secret, and in darkness veils 
The most conspicuous ; nought transcends the range 
Of hope; stern oaths, and fixedness of soul 
Are each in turn subdued. I, who but now 
Inflexible, like tempered steel, appeared, 
Relent, persuaded by this woman's words. 
I pity her, left widowed 'mid my foes ; 



AJAX. 127 

My son, a helpless orphan. Moved by this, 
To the pure baths and pastured shores I go, 
That, cleansed from all pollutions, I may shun 
The fearful vengeance of the Virgin-Power. 
Some yet untrodden spot will I explore 
To hide this sword, — this weapon most abhorred, 
Deep in the earth, where none may e'er behold, 
But Night and Hell preserve it evermore. 
'Twas Hector's gift, my most detested foe;' 
And since the hour he gave it, nought from Greece 
Have I achieved of honour. Sage and true 
Is the old adage, ' that a foeman's gift 
Is not a gift, nor fraught with solid good. 
Henceforth we'll pay meet reverence to the Gods, 
And learn submission to the sons of Atreus. 
They are Kings, and should be honoured. Where- 
fore not? 
The martial and most valiant must concede | 
To loftier station ; thus the wintry snows | 
Yield to the fruitful summer. Night's dark orb 
Retires from Heaven, that with his snow-white steeds 
Glad Day may kindle o'er the reddening skies. 
When with wild winds vexed Ocean hoarsely raves, 

' Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. — Virg. iEn. 11. 49. 



128 AJAX. 

A gentler gale may still the storm to peace ; 

And Sleep, the all-subduing, breaks the chain 

Wherewith he bound, nor holds us captive ever. 

Why then should we refuse to learn submission, 

Since — for at length I know — 2 so would I hate 

A foe, as one whom friendship's tie restored, 

May yet unite once more ; so would I aim 

To aid a friend, in action and in word, 

As one yet prone to change ? Friendship, I know, 

To man a faithless haven oft hath proved. 

But all shall yet be well. Retire within, 

And pray the Gods, Tecmessa, to bestow 

A prosperous issue to my soul's desire. 

Ye too, dear comrades, to your chief concede 

An equal honour ; and when Teucer comes, 

Tell him our will, and bid him, too, concur. 

Now where Fate calls me thither must I go. 

Ye but observe the bidding of your Lord ; 

And soon, perchance, though now in misery sunk, 

My glad release from sorrow shall ye hear. 

[Exit A j ax. 



2 Similar is the sentiment referred to by Cicero, de Amic. 
xvi. Compare, also, Eurip. Hippol. 253, et seqq. 



AJAX. 129 

Chorus. 

STROPHE. 

Now with love my heart is glowing ; 

Now with livelier joys o'erflowing : 

lo, lo, Sylvan God, 

Wanderer of the ocean-flood, 

Come, O Pan, from heights of snow, 

On z Cyllene's craggy brow ; 

Come, Monarch of the choir divine, 

For all the graceful art is thine : 

Come, thine own sportive dance to share ; — 

Such as on Nysa's heights of green, 

And in the Gnossian vales is seen ; — 

The dance is all my care. 

Hastening o'er th' 4 Icarian main, 

3 Cyllene, a mountain of Arcadia, jointly patronized by 
Mercury, whose birth-place it was, and Pan. (Pan Deus 
Arcadize venit. Virg. Eel. 10.) Nysa, a summit of Par- 
nassus, the same with that mentioned in the Antigone. 
Gnossus, a city in Crete. 

Ti 'wzXov, biov ttot hk Kvucrau \vgiiv\ 

II. 18. 590. 

4 The Icarian sea, south of Icaros, on the coast of Ionia. 

VOL. II. K 



130 AJAX. 

Royal Phoebus, Delian Power; 
Thou too, in the joyous hour 
Thy favouring presence deign ! 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Mars hath changed the clouds of sadness, 

To the cheerful beam of gladness : 

Io, lo, now again, 

Now, O Jove, her welcome reign 

Morn resumes, and pours her light 

O'er the gallies, swift in flight ; 

Since of his wrath forgetful now 

Ajax again the suppliant vow 

To Heaven's offended Powers hath paid, 

Again fulfilled each holy rite. — 

Before stern Time's resistless might/ 

All mortal strength must fade : 

Nor would I of aught despair — 

Since from wrath and mortal feud 

Ajax to the Royal Pair 

Resumes a milder mood. 

Enter Messenger. 



AJAX. 131 

MESSENGER, CHORUS. 

Mess. My friends, these tidings I would first 
relate, 
Teucer is present from the Mysian heights ; 
Whom, while advancing midway through the host, 
With stern reproach the Argive bands pursued. 
When from afar they saw him, all withstood 
His onward path, and, flocking round, broke forth 
On every side in keen upbraiding taunts ; 
From insult none refrained. " The brother this," 
They cry, " of that wild madman, to the host 
A false convicted traitor, who shall die, 
Crushed, as he merits, by o'erwhelming stones." 
Nay, to such height arose the gathering fray, 
That many hands were drawing from the sheath 
Their glittering swords. At length the strife was 

hushed, 
By wise persuasions of experienced age. 
But where is Ajax, that to his own ear 
These tidings I may bear — for to our Lord 
Duty enjoins us to disclose the whole? 

Ch. He is no more within; but late went forth 
In new-born calmness, and with new design. 

k 2 



132 AJAX. 

Mess. Alas ! Alas ! 
Then lie, who sent me hither, gave too late 
His charge, or I have loitered on my way. 

Ch. What, then, is wanting of our present need? 

Mess. Teucer gave charge, that, till himself arrived, 
The Chief an instant should not quit the tent. 

Ch. He went, with wisest purpose, to avert, 
By pious prayer, the anger of the Gods. 

Mess. Such words are empty babbling, if we hold 
5 The prescient Calchas an unerring prophet. 

Ch. What ? Hath he aught foretold concerning 
this? 

Mess. Thus much I know, for I was present 
there. 
Out of the court and council of the Kings 
Calchas apart from Atreus' sons retired, 
And grasping Teucer's hand, with friendly zeal, 
Charged and conjured him, by whatever means 
He could devise, throughout this day to keep 
Ajax within his tent, nor let him range 
Beyond its precincts, if he still desired 
To see him living. On this day alone, 



5 Praeterea, si qua est Heleno prudentia, vati 
Si qua fides. — Virgil. 



AJAX. 133 

He said, against him burned Athena's wrath. 

For oft, the Seer declared, unwieldy 6 might, 

If void of prudence, by offended Heaven 

Is crushed in ruin, when beyond his birth 

With aim too daring senseless man aspires. 

When first the Chieftain left his native isle, 

He heeded not his father's prudent charge, 

Who thus addressed him : " Seek, my son, in fight, 

To conquer, but still conquer through the Gods :" 

This was his haughty and unwise reply : 

" Father, with heavenly aid a coward's hand 

May grasp the prize of conquest ; I confide 

To win such trophies e'en without the Gods." 

So lofty was his boast. Thus too once more, 

When mighty Pallas spurred him on to turn 

His reeking hand againt th' opposing foe, 

He answered stern in proud and impious strain : 

" O Queen ! to other Argives lend thine aid ; 

No hostile might shall break where Ajax stands." 



6 This admirable sentiment is well expressed by Horace : 
Vis consili expers mole ruit sua : 
Vim temperatam Di quoque provehunt 
In majus : idem odere vires 

Omne nefas animo moventes.— Hor. Lib. iii. 4. 



134 AJAX. 

By words like these lie roused to ruthless ire 
Th' offended Goddess, for his spirit burned 
With pride unmeet for mortals. But this day 
If he survive, then, with celestial aid, 
We yet may save him. Thus the Prophet spake ; 
And Teucer bade me from the council bear 
These weighty mandates for thy prompt observance. 
If here our purpose fail, and Calchas prove 
A faithful prophet, Ajax is no more ! 

Ch. Wretched Tecmessa, born to bitterest woe, 
Come forth, and listen to these news of ill — 
Torn from the root are now thy transient joys. 

Tec. Who calls a hapless wretch, scarce resting yet 
From unexhausted ills, to quit her seat ? 

Ch. Hear from this man, what tidings he reports 
Of Ajax ; terror seized me as I heard. 

Tec. Ah me ! what say'st thou ? — are we then 
undone ? 

Mess. Thy fate I know not; but for Ajax' doom, 
If he have left his tent, no hope I feel. 

Tec. He hath indeed ; and therefore at thy words, 
Fear steals upon my soul ! 

Mess. 'Tis Teucer's charge, 
He should be closely watched, nor left alone 
To wander forth. 



AJAX. 135 

Tec. And where is Teucer, say ; 
And wherefore charged he thus ? 

Mess. E'en now he comes. 
But oh ! I tremble, lest this sad event 
Be but the prelude to the fall of Ajax. 

Tec. Unhappy me ! And who informed thee thus ? 

Mess. The Prophet-son of Thestor, that this day 7 
Would bring or certain death, or life secure. 

Tec. Ah me ! lend, lend, O friends, your prompt- 
est aid 
In this sad crisis : some with speed repair 
To hasten Teucer 's coming ; some explore 
The western hills ; the eastern some ; to track 
Th' ill-omened path of your devoted Lord. 
Alas ! he hath deceived me. Well I know 
He loves me not as he was wont to love. 
Ah me ! What shall I do, my son ? — No time 
Is this to linger. Thither will I go 
Where'er my strength avails. Away ! Away ! 
Now is their time to act, who fain would snatch 
From death the man, who only hastes to die. 

Ch. I am prepared ; nor will I show my zeal 



7 This day or makes me, or undoes me quite. 



136 AJAX. 

In empty words ; the swift unlingering course, 
And the prompt deed shall follow on my speech. 
[Exeunt Chorus #/7^Tecmessa. 



Scene changes, and discovers Aj ax bending over 
his Sword. 3 

Aj. Now stands the murderous sword, where it may 
pierce 
Most deeply — (had I thought in such an hour 
To reason idly thus) — 'Twas Hector's gift, 
Of strangers ever most abhorred by me, 
And to my sight most hateful. In the soil 
Of hostile Troy 'tis rooted, sharpened late 
To pierce more promptly. I have well prepared 
And fixed it deep, to yield a speedy death, 
And thence to Ajax prove his kindest friend. 
Thus far 'tis well arranged. Next, mighty Jove ! 



8 Here is a violation of the unity of place, which has been 
censured by some writers ; but it is essential to the machinery 
of the piece. Similar instances are found in the Eumenides 
of iEschylus, and the Alcestis of Euripides ; and, even were 
it not so, still, as Potter justly remarks, the single speech of 
Ajax over his sword is of more value than all the unities. 



AJAX. 137 

Thy grace, as is most meet, I now implore, 

Nor will I ask thee for an ample boon. 

Send one who may in Teucer's ear report 

The evil tidings, that he first may bear 

My corpse, yet reeking from the sword, away, 

Lest by some foe discovered, I am cast 

To dogs and birds a vile dishonoured prey. 

This, Jove, I ask of thee. — I next invoke 

9 Th' infernal Hermes, guide of parted souls, 

That he would soothe me gently to repose ; 

And grant, when this keen sword has pierced my 

side, 
A prompt and painless passage to the shades. 
I next invoke to aid me those dread Powers, 
For ever virgins, and of mortal wrongs 
For ever conscious, swift in keen pursuit, 
The awful Furies, to attest my doom, 
By the base sons of Atreus basely slain, 
And plunge the traitors in an equal fate. 
As they behold my blood, by mine own hand 
Poured forth, so be their best-loved children's hands 



9 Tu pias laetis animas reponis 
Sedibus, virgaque levem coerces 
Aurea turbam, &c. — Hor. lib. i. 10 



138 AJAX. 

Embrued in their's— thus IO self-destroyers too. 
Come, ye Avenging Furies, swift and stern, 
Quaff their warm blood, nor spare the peopled 

host. — 
Thou, too, whose car o'er yon bright Heaven is 

borne, 
Look down, O Sun ! upon my native land ; 
Relax thy golden reins, and deign to bear 
The joyless tale of misery and of death, 
To my sad mother and my aged sire. 
Unhappy Queen ! soon as the tale she hears, 
What plaints through all the city will she pour ! — 
Yet idly thus to sorrow nought avails ; 
Let the bold deed at once be dared and done. 

Death ! stern Death ! approach, regard me now, 
Soon shall I hold a nearer converse with thee. 
Thee, car-borne Sun sublime, for the last ti m e, 

1 Thee, glorious beam of the resplendent day, 

10 It is well known, that to die by the hand of one's own 
children was accounted among the Ancients a species of 
suicide. 

1 It was a general custom among the Ancients to invoke 
the Sun, as a witness of their sufferings : — 

Esto nunc Sol testis, et haec mihi terra precanti 

Quam propter tantos potui perferre labores, 

Et Pater Omnipotens, &c. — Virg. JEn. xii. 176. 



AJAX. 139 

I now invoke, to hail no more for ever ! 
light — O soil of Salamis beloved, 
My father-land ! O dear paternal hearth, 
Thou noble Athens, and my loved compeers — 
Ye founts, ye rivers, and ye Trojan plains, 
Which long have here sustained me — Ajax breathes 
This parting word, a long and last farewell ; — 
Next shall I commune with the shades of Hell. 

[Falls upon his sword. 



Scene opens and discovers Chorus divided into Two 
Parties, seeking Ajax. 

1st Semich. Toil but increases toil. Where, 
where, O where 
Hath not my search explored ? 
And yet no spot his latent path reveals. 
Hist ! — hist ! I hear a sound. 

2d Semich. From us it came, thy mates in com- 
mon search. 
1st Semich. What tidings do ye bring? 
2d Semich. We traversed all the western naval 

camp. 
1st Semich. What have ye found ? 



140 AJAX. 

2d Semich. Enough of toil — but nought in sight 

beyond. 
1st Semich. Nor yet to me, in all mine eastward 
course, 
Appeared a vestige of the man we seek. 

STROPHE. 

Ch. Who then, O who of all the z Powers ma- 
rine, 

Holding his sleepless watch, intent on toil- — 

Which of th' Olympian host, or who that dwells 

By Bosphorus' torrent streams, 

If he hath marked the high-souled chief, 

Will tell me where he roams ? 

Unwelcome task for me 

3 Worn down with age and weakness, wandering 
thus, 

To lead a tedious search, nor trace 



a 'ATuaSaj*. — Some render this " the laborious fishermen;" 
we read ufactiuv, and incline to consider it referring to the Marine 
Gods, particularly as used in opposition to 'OAu/^sna^W, which 
last Herman proposes as the true reading for 'OtofMnaSay. 

3 Aptvwlv. — Musgrave, referring this word to Ajax, pro- 
poses to read /ke/xuvot'. The Choregus, however, evidently 
refers to himself, as being an old man. 



AJAX. 141 

The frenzied wanderer's path ! 

Tec. Ah me ! ah me ! 

Ch. What groans are echoing from th' adjacent 
grove ? 

Tec. Wretch that I am ! 

Ch. The captive of his spear — his hapless bride, 
Tecmessa, bowed in anguish I behold. 

Tec. I am undone, my friends, destroyed — un- 
done. 

Ch. What dost thou mean ? 

Tec. Here lies our Ajax, slain with recent wound, 
Pierced by the fatal sword, too well concealed. 

Ch. Woe, woe for my return ! — 
Thus dying, Prince beloved, me too, 
Thy comrade hast thou slain — 
Ah me ! unhappy me ! 
More wretched, lady, thou ! 

Tec. Since such his doom, 'tis time indeed to wail ! 

Ch. Say, by whose hand the hapless chieftain 
died? 

Tec. His own — his own, 'tis evident — for the 
sword, 
Deep fixed in earth, on which he fell, confirms it. 

Ch. Ah ! my unhappy doom ! 



142 AJAX. 

How didst thou sink in death alone, 

By friends unguarded all, 

While I — O most unthinking — most unwise. 

Slept negligent — Where, where 

Lies the unbending chief, 

Ajax of hapless name ? 

Tec. 4 Thou must not gaze upon him. I will fold 
This ample robe around his lifeless form ; — 
Alas ! no friendly eye could bear to look 
On the wide nostril, spouting sable gore, 
On the wide wound his own fierce hand hath made. 
What shall I do? What friend shall bear thee 

hence? 
Where, where is Teucer ? — How will he arrive, 
Would he but come indeed, in time to pay 
The last sad duties to a brother's corpse ! 
Ill-fated Ajax, man of matchless mould, 
Such are thy miseries, as might wring the tears 
Of prompt compassion from a foeman's eye. 

4 This is an extremely delicate and accurate touch of na- 
ture. So tender was the affection of Tecmessa for her mur- 
dered Ajax, that she could not endure even his dead body 
to become an object of horror or disgust. The dying Hip- 
politus appears to have been conscious of a similar feeling: — 



AJAX. 143 



ANTISTROPHE. 

Ch. This was thy purpose then, thy purpose this, 
O thou of firm and unrelenting soul ! 
By resolute death to end thy boundless toils. — 
Such were in night's mid gloom, 
In day's broad splendour, such thine anguished 

groans, 
On Atreus' race abhorred 
Invoking curses dire. 

That instant was the source of all our woes, 
When they proposed for valour's meed 
Achilles' radiant arms. 

Tec. Unhappy me ! 

Ch. That grief, I know, lies deep within thy 
breast. 

Tec. Ah me ! ah me ! 

Ch. I marvel not at thine incessant groans, 
Lady, but now of one so dear deprived. 

Tec. Thou canst but think — 'tis mine to feel too 
deeply. 

Ch. I own it. 

Tec. Ah me ! my son, what yoke of bondage 
base 
Must we endure ; what haughty Lord obey P 



144 AJAX. 

Ch. Alas ! thou hast recalled 
5 The dark unutterable deed 
Of the stern kings, unmoved 
In this our agony — 
May Heaven avert the blow ! 

Tec. It had not fallen thus, but Heaven decreed. 
Ch. Woes far too heavy have the Gods imposed. 
Tec. Yet such affliction for Ulysses' sake, 
Jove's hostile daughter, stern Athena, sends. 

Ch. The Chief of many toils 
In his dark soul will doubtless mock 
Our tears with bitterest scorn, 
And laugh insulting at the woes we bear 
For deeds in frenzy wrought ! 
So, too, the Brother-Kings 
Hearing the welcome tale. 

Tec. And let them laugh exulting in his woes ; 
Perchance, though living, they revered him not, 
In battle's hour they may lament him dead. 
The fool, though grasping in his hand a prize, 

s "Ai/ctvSov. — This word, according to Musgrave, generally 
signifies mutum, taciturnum ; he, consequently, proposes to 
reject it, and read avouSZv. This, however, is unnecessary, 
since, as Erfurdt observes, it denotes the same with avotvforos 
and xvuv^ns, infandum. 



AJAX. 145 

Heeds not its value, till 'tis lost for ever. 

More bitter was his death to me than sweet 

To them ; but joyous to himself: — the death 

He prayed for — wished for — now hath closed his 

woes. 
How then can they insult a doom like this? 
'Twas by the Gods he perished, not by them. ) 
Let then Ulysses vent his empty taunts. 
They have no longer Ajax — while to me, 
Dying, he leaves dejection and despair. 

Teu. Alas! alas! [within. 

Ch. Hist ! for I seem to hear the voice of Teucer, 
Uttering deep groans, accordant with our ills. 

Enter Teucer. 



TEUCER, TECMESSA, CHORUS. 

Teu. O dearest Ajax, — O most honoured brother ! 
Hast thou then perished e'en as rumour tells ? 

Ch. Yes, Teucer; thou must hear the mournful 
truth : 
He is no more ! 

Teu. Ah miserable me ! 

VOL. II. l 



146 AJAX. 

What heaviest grief is this ? 

Ch. In woes like these — 

Teu. Unhappy — most unhappy ! 

Ch. Tis well to weep. 

Teu. O most disastrous doom ! 

Ch. Aye ! too disastrous, Teucer. 

Teu. Wretched man ! 
But say, what of his son? Where is he now, 
In Trojan ground? 

Ch. Alone, within the tents. 

Teu. Fly then, and bring him hither to our pre- 
sence ; 
Lest some fierce foe secure him, as the whelp 
Of the forsaken lioness. Away ! 
Be prompt, assist him. All are prone to tread 
Upon departed greatness. 

Ch. While the life 
Still warmed his breast, it was his latest charge, 
That thou shouldst guard, as now thou guard'st, 
his son. 

Teu. O sight of all that ever met mine eye, 
Most fraught with anguish ! O ill-omened path 
That led me here, of all I ever trod, 
Tending to pangs that wound my heart most 
deeply ; 



AJAX. 147 

When first I heard thy fate, beloved Ajax, 

Swift I pursued, and tracked thy steps in vain. 

A sad report of thee, as by some God, 

Was quickly blazoned through the Argive host, 

That thou hadst perished ; I in sorrow heard, 

Deep groaning, though afar ; I see it now, 

And sink in heavier anguish. Come, remove 

The veil, that I may witness all my woe. 

O sight of horror ! — wild excess of rage ! 

How many woes thy death has sown for me ! 

Ah whither, to what people can I fly, 

I, in thy need who was not nigh to aid thee ? 

Will Telamon, thy father and mine own, 

Meet me with smiling brow and favouring heart, 

Uncompanied by thee ? How should he thus, 

Who smiled not, e'en when better fortune crowned 

me? 
What will he hide ? What keen upbraidings 

spare? 
Will he not brand me as the base-born child 
Of bondage, who, through mean, unmanly, fear, 
Betrayed thee, dearest Ajax ; or through fraud, 
That by thy death exalted, I might win 
Thy kingdom for mine heritage ? Thus incensed, 
By nature wrathful, and morose with age, 

l 2 



148 AJAX. 

My sire will vent th' unmerited reproach ; 
And last/ an outcast from my native land 
Shall I be thrust ; accounted as a slave 
Unmeet for freedom. This at home awaits me ; 
While stern and many are my foes at Troy, 
My aids but few and feeble. All these ills 
Thy death, my brother, hath on me imposed. 
Ah me ! what shall I do 1 How shall I tear 
Thy corpse, unhappy, from this deadly sword, 
Whose point hath shed thy life-blood ? Didst thou 

know 
Hector, himself no more, would cause thy ruin? 
Mark, by the Gods ! these hapless heroes' fate. 
Bound by the very belt which Ajax gave 
To the swift chariot, Hector breathed his last ; 
He, too, possessing Hector's fatal gift, 



5 This presage of Teucer was verified by the event, as he 
was, on his return from Troy, expelled from Salamis by his 
indignant father. 

Teucer Salamina patremque 
Cum fugeret. 

Hor. Od. vii. lib. 1. 

Atque equidem Teucrum memini Sidona venire 
Finibus expulsum patriis, nova regna petentem. 

Virg. ttn. i. 619. 



AJAX. 149 

By it hath perished with a mortal wound. 

Did not some Fury forge that sword, and Death, 

A stern artificer ! that baldrick weave ? 

These, then, I ween, the Gods for man ordain ; 

These, and each strange vicissitude of life. 

If others think not thus, let them adhere 

To their own sentence ; I am fixed in mine. 

Ch. Forbear thy plaints; bethink thee how t' 
entomb 
Thy brother's corpse in earth, and how reply. 
I see a foe approaching, who perchance 
Comes, like a ruffian, to insult our woes. 

Teu. Whom of the host advancing dost thou see ? 

Ch. Tis Menel'aus, in whose cause we sailed 
From Greece. 

Teu. I see him ; he is near us now, 
And may be promptly known. 

Enter Menelaus. 



MENELAUS, TEUCER, TECMESSA, CHORUS. 

Men. Ho ! thee I call. 
Raise not that lifeless body with thy hands, 



150 AJAX. 

But leave it as it lies. 

Teu. Why dost thou speak 
In terras so haughty ? 

Men. Thus have we decreed ; 
And thus th' imperial chieftain. 

Teu. Wilt thou say 
What plea thou bring'st to justify the deed ? 

Men. Because, when we had trusted from his 
home 
He came to Greece a friend and firm ally, 
Soon in the chief we found a deadlier foe, 
Than e'en the adverse Trojans ; — who conspired 
The death of all our army, and by night 
Rushed forth to slay us with insidious spear ; 
And, but some God his frenzied madness foiled, 
Ours must the doom have been that now is his ; 
And we had perished by as base a death, 
While he survived ; but Heaven reversed the wrong, 
And on the senseless herds his fury fell. 
6 Wherefore be none so potent, as to hide 



6 This brutality was too common among the ancients. It 
was the privation of sepulchral honours that embittered the 
last moments of the dying Hector; and Turnus, while he will 
not directly supplicate for life, implores at least this boon. 



AJAX. 151 

His breathless body in a decent tomb ; 

But, cast unhonoured on the yellow sand, 

A prey to ravening sea-birds let it lie. 

Nor thou at this indulge unlicensed rage. 

If, while he lived, our righteous rule he scorned, 

At least in death our sway shall reach him now, 

Constrained, though thou withstand, by mightier 

force. 
Living, he never hearkened to my word, 
And stubborn soul it speaks, when men ungraced 
With power, are backward to obey their Masters. 
Laws in a state could ne'er be well observed, 
Unless enforced by salutary fear fh 
Nor will an army bend submiss to sway, 
Unchecked by reverence, and by dread unawed. 
Man should reflect, though strong in corporal 

might, 
A trivial ill may work his future ruin A 
When fear is blended with ingenuous shame, 
The man, of both observant, is secure. 



Et me, seu corpus spoliatum lumine mavis, 

Redde meis. 
This passage conveys no very favourable opinion of the hus- 
band of Helen, and the brother of the King of Men. 



152 A J AX. 

Where license free for lawless outrage reigns, 
That state, though sped by Fortune's favouring 

gales, 
Must sink, ere long, in Ruin's gulf immerged. 
Ever let me such wholesome awe observe, 
Nor let us deem, that acting as we list, 
We shall not pay a penalty of woe. 
Alternate these succeed. This man before 
Was insolent and proud ; 'tis now my turn, 
And I forewarn thee not t' entomb the chief, 
Lest, granting him a grave, thou dig thine own. 

Ch. O Menelaus ! since thy words are sage, 
With senseless insult tread not on the lifeless. 

Teu. Henceforth I ne'er can wonder, if a man 
Sprung from ignoble lineage widely errs ; 
Since chiefs, who vaunt them in ancestral fame, 
Err in their reasoning with vain words like these. 
Recur to thy commencement. Canst thou say 
Thou broughtest Ajax, as to Greece allied ? 
Sailed he not forth, sole Master of himself? 
How wert thou made his general ? Whence hast thou 
Right to command the troops he brought from home? 
Thou cam'st the King of Sparta, not our chief. 
Nor hadst thou aught of juster rule o'er him, 
Than he might claim o'er thee. Hither thou saild'st, 



AJAX. 153 

Thyself another's subject,— not the chief 
Of all, — that thou shouldst thus o'er Ajax lord : 
7 Rule where thy sway is owned, and lofty vaunts 
On thine own vassals vent ; but for this man, — 
Though thou, or e'en thy brother-chief forbid, — 
I will entomb him with funereal rites, 
Thine idle threats disdaining. For thy wife 
He did not serve in battle, like the tribes 
Compelled to join the mercenary war; 
But by the oath himself had sworn constrained, 
Not for thy sake. He ne'er esteemed the worthless. 
Go then,- — bring many heralds in thy train, — 
Bring e'en the imperial chief; thy clamorous threats 
Shall never move my purpose, while thou art 
What now I know thee. 

Ch. Nay, I cannot praise 
Such vehemence, while woes are thick around us. 
Reproach like this, though just, severely wounds. 

Men. This archer thinks not meanly of himself. 

Teu. No ! 'twas no vain nor worthless art I learned. 

Men. Great were thine insolence, didst thou 
wear a shield ! 



7 Go ; — show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble. 

Julius Caesar. 



154 AJAX. 

Teu. 8 Defenceless thus I would not shrink from 
thee, 
Though cased in panoply. 

Men. Thy words indeed 
Bespeak a doughty soul. 

Teu. Conscious of right 
The soul may proudly soar. 

Men. Is it then right 
To grace with honour the base wretch who slew me? 

Teu. Slew thee ? O wondrous ! slain and yet 
alive ? 

Men. The Gods preserved my life, — in his intent 
I died. 

Teu. Then dare not thou despise the Gods, 
Thus by the Gods preserved. 

Men. What, do I scorn 
The laws of Heaven ? 



8 YtXo«: the i|/»*o» wore no defensive armour, and were infe- 
rior in dignity to the otcXTtoci. Bowmen were accounted the 
least honourable of warriors, as we learn from the reproach of 
Diomed to Paris, in the eleventh Iliad. 

Thrice armed is he that hath his quarrel just; 
And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 

Shakspeare, Henry VI. 



AJAX. 155 

Teu. Yes ; if thou wilt not grant 
The dead a tomb. 

Men. I will not grant my foe 
A sepulchre, — such grace would ill become me. 

Teu. Did Ajax ever beard thee as a foe ? 

Men. I hated him because he hated me ; 
To this thou art no stranger. 

Teu. Aye, by him 
A false and fraudful voter wert thou proved. 

Men. This from the umpires, not from me, arose. 

Teu. For many wiles canst thou in secret frame. 

Men. These words shall cost thee sorrow. 

Teu. None so keen 
I deem, as that I have imposed on thee. 

Men. One word I speak. He must not be en- 
tombed. 

Teu. In one I answer. He shall be entombed ! 

Men. I once beheld a man of daring speech, 
Who, while the heavens grew dark, enjoined the 

crew 
To spread their swelling sails ; but when the storm 
Infuriate raged, his voice was heard no more ; 
Then, in his cloak enfolded, every foot 
At will might trample o'er his prostrate form. 
So thine offensive clamours will be checked, 



156 AJAX. 

When from a little cloud the mighty storm 

Shall burst in wrath, and curb thy lengthened vaunts. 

Teu. I too have seen a man, by folly swoln, 
Who laughed insulting at a neighbour's woe. 
One like myself beheld him, and in wrath, 
Resembling mine, such words as these returned ; 
" Presume not, mortal, to insult the dead. 
If thou persist, know, certain vengeance waits 

thee." 
So he, thus present, warned th' insensate foe. 
I see him now ; he is, or much I err, 
No other than thyself. Say, speak I now 
In parables obscurely ? 

Men. I depart. 
It ill beseems the man to threat in words, 
Who has the power by force to work his will. 

Teu. Away ; — I too esteem it foul reproach 
Idly to babble with a fool like thee. 

[Exit Menelaus. 



TEUCER, CHORUS. 

Ch. Some strife of dire contention must arise. 
But, Teucer, haste thee to explore 



AJAX. 157 

Some cave, where Ajax may repose 
In his sepulchral dwelling, to mankind 
An ever-memorable name ! 

Teu. Mark, too, in season for our task most meet, 
His wife and son are present, to assist 
The obsequies of the unhappy dead. 
Come hither, child, and, standing near the corpse, 
A suppliant, touch the sire who gave thee life. 
And sit imploring there, fast in thy hand 
Grasping my hair, thy mother's, and thine own, 
The suppliant's treasured prayer. If of the host 
One but presume to force thee from the dead, 
Let that vile wretch on earth unburied lie, 
And from the root for ever be he plucked 
With all his race, as I cut off this hair. 
Take it, my child, — preserve it, — from this spot 
Let none constrain thee, — to thy sire cling fast. 
Ye too, not women in the garb of men, 
Stand close around, and aid him till I come, 
Forbid who may, our Ajax to entomb. 

[Exit Teucer. 

Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

What then shall be the bound? O where 



158 AJAX. 

Shall close the train of wandering years, 
Which ever fraught with restless care, 
With martial toils, and ceaseless fears, 
9 At Troy detains me yet, — a name 
To Greece of woe and darkest shame ! 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

O ! had he first dissolved in air, 

Or sought our common home, the grave, 

Who taught these hateful arms to bear, 

And the I0 sad boon to Hellas gave. 

O toils of toils prolific still ! 

He wreaked on man man's deadliest ill. 

STROPHE II. 

He gave me not the crown to twine, 
Or quafT the sparkling bowl ; 
To revel in the generous wine, 
To raise the dulcet strain divine, 



9 'EygaJ&j T§o*«» — Ivguh), properly squalidam, sordidam. 
But Troy was remarkable for its magnificence. We may 
either refer the epithet to the low and marshy plains about 
Troy, or adopt Lobeck's conjecture of Ivgveffi. 

10 Koivo/Agflv, communem noxam.— Musgr. Rather, helium 
quod sociatis viribus gerunt. 



A3 AX. 159 

Or melt, while night's mid splendours shine, 
In blissful love's control. 
To love, sweet love, I wake no more ; 
But ' cheerless lie on this bleak shore, 
While aye o'er mine unsheltered head 
The damp chill dews of Heaven are shed, 
Sad Troy's memorials sole ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Till now from fears that frown by night, 

Or darts that wound by day, 

My shield was Ajax, stern in fight ; — 

He yields to some loathed Daemon's might — 

And now o'er me what new delight 

Shall beam its genial ray? 

O that I stood on that proud steep 

Which beetles o'er the maddening deep, 

Where * Sunium rears its lofty shore ; — 

Then, sacred Athens, might I pour 

To thee a livelier lay ! 



'A/Aepi/xi-os, for itoXvpi^pvoq. It may, however, be trans- 
lated neglectus. 

* Sunium was a promontory of Athens, at the extremity of 
Attica : there was a small port and town, near which Miner- 
va had a splendid temple. 



160 AJAX. 



Re-enter Teucer. 



TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. 

Teu. I hurried back, for I perceived our chief, 
Stern Agamemnon, hither bend his steps. 
No mild address his lowering brow portends. 

Enter Agamemnon. 



AGAMEMNON, TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, 
CHORUS. 

Agam. Do they then tell me thou hast dared to 
vent 
Reproach on us, and thus unpunished too, 
Thou, the base offspring of a captured slave ? 
Had but thy mother sprung from noble race, 
How high had been thy vaunts, how fierce thy pride, 
Since, weak thyself as nothing, thou dost strive 
For one who now is nothing ; and hast vowed 
That nor commanders of the Grecian host, 



AJAX. 161 

Nor of the fleet, nor e'en thyself, we came ; 
But Ajax, as thou said'st, to Ilion sailed 
His own sole sovereign. Is't not foulest shame 
To hear such vauntings from a slave like thee ?! 
And in whose cause hast thou so proudly cla- 
moured ? 
Where hath he met, or where withstood the foe, 
And I have shrunk or trembled ? Hath our Greece 
Through all her hosts no men, save him alone? 
In evil hour, it seems, did I proclaim 
To Greece the contest for Achilles' arms, 
If Teucer brand me in each place a villain ; 
And ye, the conquered, will not yield the prize, 
When by the umpires' general voice assigned ; 
But still pursue us with reproaches keen, 
And, when defeated, secret treasons frame. 
Did acts like these prevail, no laws could stand 
On firm and lasting basis, should we wrest 
His guerdon from the victor, and award 
The proud pre-eminence to grace the vanquished. 
But this must be restrained. Not corporal might, 
Nor sinewy frame on firmest footing stands ; 
The wise and prudent are the prosperous still. 
By a small lash in its appointed path 
The mighty ox is unresisting led. 

VOL. II. M 



162 A J AX. 

Nay, o'er thee too, such medicine I perceive 
Stealing, unless a wiser mood return, 
Who for what once was man, but now a shade, 
Dost brawl, and give free license to thy tongue. 
Wilt thou not bend submissive — wilt not own 
Thine abject baseness, and bring hither one 
Of freeborn race to speak while thou art silent ? 
How should I catch the purport of thy words, 
Who am not practised in barbaric tongue 1 

Ch. O that a soul more temperate dwelt in both ! 
I know not what to wish more meet for either* 

Teu. J Alas ! how soon the service of the dead 
Fades from remembrance, and is all effaced, 
If this vain man so lightly deems of thee, 
My Ajax, nor accords the slightest grace 
To one whose life so often in the field 
Hath on his cause been perilled ! All thy deeds 
Are swept unheeded from his memory now. 
Thou, of so many and such senseless words, 
Say, hast thou no remembrance, when enclosed 



3 But yesterday the name of Caesar might 
Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 

Julius Caesar. 



A J AX. 163 

Within your rampart, arms availing nought, 
Alone he stemmed the tide of adverse war, 
And singly brought deliverance ; when the flame 
Curled round the ships, and lightened o'er the 

fleet, 
What time your naval trench stern Hector leaped 
Impetuous on the host ? Who checked him then ? 
Whose bold emprize was this ? Was it not his, 
Who ne'er, thou say'st, his fearless foot advanced? 
Nay, more ; with Hector matched in single strife 
By lot, and unconstrained, undaunted he 
Went forth to meet him, casting in the midst 
No fraudful lot, no 4 clod of kneaded clay, 
But that which bounding and elastic sprung 
From out the crested helmet. Such the deeds 
Of this bold chief. I, too, was present there, 
This slave, this barbarous mother's baseborn child. 
Wretch, with what view this insult didst thou aim? 
Dost thou not know, the father of that sire 



4 Allusion is here made to the artifice practised by Cres- 
phontes, at the division of Peloponnesus among the He- 
raclidae, that Messenia might fall to his share. Probably, 
however, some stratagem actually practised by Menelaus is 
also referred to. See page 155. 

M 2 



164 AJAX-. 

Who gave thee life, was Pelops, of old time 
A barbarous 5 Phrygian, and thy father too 
Was Atreus, vilest, guiltiest of mankind, 
Who his own brother at a banquet lured 
On his own sons to feed ; thy mother, too, 
A Cretan, whom the sire that gave her life 
Cast with her paramour to the wild waves, 
Food for the ravening monsters of the main? 
Born of such lineage, canst thou scorn my birth, 
Sprung from a noble sire, great Telamon, 
Who, best and bravest of the host approved, 
Took for the partner of his nuptial couch 
My mother — 6 her, too, born of royal race," 
Daughter of high Laomedon ? — such meed, 
By valour earned, to him Alcides gave. 



s Rather, a Lydian. The difference, however, is not ma- 
terial, as the boundaries of Phrygia and Lydia, which were 
adjacent provinces, cannot be accurately defined; Aerope, 
the mother of the Atridse, (who were the grandsons, not the 
sons, of Atreus,) was condemned to be thrown into the sea, 
on account of her infidelities, but preserved, and given in 
marriage to Plisthenes, the son of Atreus. 

6 Hesione, daughter of Laomedon, whom Hercules, hav- 
ing rescued from a sea-monster, gave in marriage to his friend 
and associate, Telamon. ; 



A J AX. 165 

Shall I, thus noble, and from parents sprung 

Thus noble, cease my kinsman to revere, 

Whom, prostrate in such miseries, thou wouldst 

leave 
Unsepulchred, nor blushest at the word ? 
But know thou well, if thou shalt cast him forth, 
Thou wilt cast forth us three, who kneel beside him. 
'Tis better far, in honourable toil, 
To die with glory in my kinsman's cause, 
Than for thy wife's or for thy brother's sake. 
Enough — see not mine interest, but thine own. 
If thou dost work me wrong, ere long thou'lt wish 
E'en coward fear had curbed thy wrath to me. 

Enter Ulysses. 



ULYSSES, AGAMEMNON, TEUCER, TECMESSA, 
EURYSACES, CHORUS. 

Ch. In season, O King Ulysses, art thou come, 
So thou wilt quench, and not inflame the strife. 

Ulys. What is it, soldiers ? from afar if heard 
Th' Atridse clamorous o'er the hero's corpse. 



166 AJAX. 

Agam. Have we not heard rude and unseemly- 
words, 
O Prince Ulysses, from this man before thee ? 
TJlys. What words? I blame not him, who, 
when he hears 
Upbraidings keen, in haughty tone replies. 

Agam. Such he hath heard ; for such his deeds 

deserved. 
TJlys. Why, what hath he achieved, to work 

thee wrong ? 
Agam. He will not leave this body unentombed ; 
But will, he says, in my despite inter it. 

TJlys. May, then, a friend presume to speak the 
truth, 
Yet, as before, thy hearty friendship share ? 

Agam. Speak ; I were senseless to forbid thy 
words, 
Whom of all Greece I count my firmest friend. 

TJlys. Then hear me. Do not unrelenting thus, 
By the great Gods, cast noble Ajax forth 
Unsepulchred, nor let ungoverned wrath 
Subdue thy calmer mood, and urge thee on 
Thus, in thy hate, to trample upon justice. 
In all our host, he was my deadliest foe, 



AJAX. 167 

Since first Achilles' glorious arms were mine ; 

Yet him, of soul thus adverse, in such scorn 

I never can account, as to deny 

7 Here lies the bravest of the Greeks who came — 

Except Achilles — to the Trojan towers ; 

Thus to degrade the chief would shame thyself. 

Not him alone, but Heaven's eternal laws, 

Wouldst thou contemn. Unjust it is to wrong 

The brave in death, though most abhorred in life. 

Agam. Dost thou, Ulysses, in his cause with- 
stand me ? 

Vlys. I do. I did but hate him while my hate 
Was sanctified by honour. 

Agam. Shouldst thou not 
Insult the lifeless corpse ? 

TJlys. Rejoice not thou, 
O son of Atreus, in ignoble triumphs. 

7 This earth, that bears thee dead, 
Bears not alive so brave a gentleman. 
If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
I should not make so great a show of zeal, 
But let thy favours hide thy mangled face. 
Adieu ! and take thy praise with thee to Heaven. 

Shakspeare, Hen. IV. 



168 AJAX. 

Agam. No easy task is piety to Kings. 
Ulys. Kings should give way to sage and pru- 
dent friends. 
Again. The virtuous man should yield to those 

who rule. 
Ulys. Cease ; vanquished but by friends, thou 

still art victor. 
Agam. Remember well to whom such grace thou 

giv'st. 
Ulys. He was my foe, but still most truly 

noble. 
Agam. What wilt thou then ? Why dost thou 
thus revere 
A foe departed ? 

Ulys. On his virtue more 
I dwell, than on my hatred. 

Agam. By mankind, 
Those who thus reason oft are counted senseless. 
Ulys. They who are friendliest now, ere long 
may turn 
To bitterest foes. 

Agam. And wouldst thou make or praise 
Such friends ? 

Ulys. I praise not unrelenting souls. 



AJAX. 169 

Agam. This day as cowards wilt thou brand us 

both! 
Ulys. Nay, but th' assembled Greeks will laud 

your justice. 
Agam. Thou dost persuade me then t' entomb 

the dead? 
Ulys. Yes; for the same drear grave awaits me 

too. 
Agam. How promptly each fulfils, what to his 
wish 
Is most congenial ! 

Ulys. What becomes me more 
For mine own welfare than to labour thus ? 

Agam. This shall be called thy deed — not mine. 
Ulys. As thou 
Shalt do, so all men will esteem thee righteous. 
Agam. Of this be well assured : such grace to 
thee, 
Or e'en a greater, I would promptly yield- 
But he, in life or death, alike shall share 
My just abhorrence. Work thy will in all. 

Ch. Whoe'er, Ulysses, lightly recks of thee, 
In soul and thought so noble, widely errs. 

Ulys. And thus to Teucer do I now proclaim, 



170 AJAX. 

My friendship shall exceed my former hate. 
With him I wish t' entomb the mighty dead, 
Partake his labours, and 8 omit no rite 
That man can pay to grace his noblest peer. 

Ten. Noblest Ulysses, to thy words I yield 
My warm applause ; far hast thou passed our hopes ; 
Since thou, of Greece my brother's mortal foe, 
Alone stood'st forth to aid, nor hast endured 
The living thus should trample on the lifeless ; 
When that infuriate leader of the host, 
With his most worthy brother, willed to east 
The hero forth, — unhonoured— unentombed. 
For this may He who rules Olympus' brow, 
Th' Eternal Sire ;— may ever- wakeful Furies, 
And Justice, following with unerring step, 
Consign these villains to as base a doom, 
As for the chief their guilty aim designed. 
But thee, brave son of old Laertes, thee 
I may not grant our pious task to share ; 
Lest such an act offend the mighty shade ; 



8 Let every honour to a soldier due 
Attend this hero to the tomb. 



AJAX, 171 

In all beside befriend us. If thou send 
Some from the host our funeral task to aid, 
It will not be unwelcome. On my care 
All other rites devolve ; and know, I deem 
Thy deeds to us have been most truly noble. 

Ulys. My will had been to aid thee; since in this 
To share thy toil be less congenial deemed, 
I go, assenting promptly to thy thought. 

[Exit Ulysses. 



TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. 

Teu. Enough ; much time is now consumed. 
For you, let some with duteous hand 
The hollowed trench prepare, — some rear 
The lofty tripod o'er the flame, 
For due ablutions meet ; let one 
Bear from the tent the Hero's arms, 
And martial garb of war. 
Thou, child, thy feeble strength exert ; 
Raise, — softly raise, — thy sire, and lift 
His side with care ; still the warm veins 
Through the wide gash exhale the sable gore. 



172 AJAX. 

Advance, whoe'er of friendly soul 
Is nigh ; — haste, haste, — alas ! I deem 
Ne'er wilt thou this sad task perform 
For one of mortal birth more brave 
Than what was Ajax once. 

Ch. How much doth sage experience teach man- 
kind. 
But, ere he mark th' event, no prescient seer 
The issue of the future can foretell ! 



PHILOCTETES. 



PHILOCTETES. 



Simplicity, when it does not degenerate into tame- 
ness and insipidity, is among the most attractive 
graces of poetry; and it is less the indication of su- 
perior genius to have framed an elaborate and com- 
plicated plot, than to have erected, out of scanty and 
apparently indequate materials, the superstructure of 
an interesting poem. Thus, the single subject of 
the Iliad is the anger of Achilles, with the events 
naturally arising out of it, and the inferiority of 
the iEneid to that first production of human intel- 
lect is, in no respect, more strikingly evident than 
in the more diffuse and complex nature of the sub- 
ject. Thus, also, the CEdipus Tyrannus of our 



176 PHILOCTETES. 

Author, though unrivalled for dexterity in the ma- 
nagement of the plot, and the developement of the 
catastrophe, is yet scarcely so bold and masterly 
an effort of genius as the drama before us ; the sole 
argument of which is the endeavour of Ulysses to 
wrest, by the agency of Neoptolemus, the invul- 
nerable arms from the custody of Philoctetes. 

The story of the son of Paeas is familiar, to the 
classical reader. Having been requited for his 
fidelity to the deified Hercules with the bequest of 
the hero's arms, he repaired with the confederate 
Greeks, as bound by oath, to the siege of Troy. 
There, either from the resentment of Juno on ac- 
count of the services he had rendered to Hercules, 
or, as other authors relate, in consequence of the 
evasion of a solemn oath, by which he had bound 
himself never to reveal the spot where the ashes of 
the hero had been deposited, he received a deadly 
wound in his foot, from the dropping of an arrow 
which had been tinged with the venom of the 
Lernsean hydra. So noisome was the odour issuing 
from his wound that his removal from the camp 
became a measure of imperative necessity, and he 
was accordingly allured, by Ulysses, on board a 



PH1L0CTETES. 177 

galley, under the specious pretence of having his 
wound cured by the sons of iEsculapius, and trea- 
cherously left on a desert part of the Isle of Lem- 
nos. In this state of agony and desolation, with 
no witnesses of his misery but the inanimate objects 
around him, for which custom has taught him to 
cherish a kind of melancholy regard, has the un- 
happy exile lingered for upwards of nine years, 
supporting life only by the aid of his arms, and 
still nourishing, amidst his despair, the deadliest 
animosity against the traitors who had betrayed 
him. It is at this juncture that Ulysses and Neop- 
tolemus, who have been deputed by the Grecian 
chiefs to seize and convey him to Troy, (which 
cannot be taken without his assistance,) arrive upon 
the island ; — and here commences the business of 
the drama. 

If there be any spectacle peculiarly interesting 
to the observer of human nature, it is the contem- 
plation of a generous mind reluctantly yielding to 
the suggestions of artifice and duplicity; and, 
though seduced, for a moment, by the love of glory, 
into the commission of baseness, yet struggling 
with better feelings, till at last the native integrity 

VOL. II. iv 



178 PHILOCTETES. 

of the honourable mind rises triumphant over the 
arts of the deceiver. Such a character is Neop- 
tolemus. Young, ingenuous, and upright, he re- 
coils with indignation from the smooth sophistry of 
artifice and fraud — he is only reconciled to it by the 
specious lure of fame — he perseveres in the deceit 
so long as he is encouraged by the presence of his 
wily confederate ; but when left to himself — to the 
silent remonstrances of conscience — the innate ge- 
nerosity of his heart resumes its ascendancy, nor 
can he consent to purchase his own glory and the 
welfare of Greece, at the price of his honour. We 
recognize in him all the lineaments of that high- 
souled and impetuous chief, to whom is attributed, 
by the Master-Poet, that memorable sentiment : — 

Who dares think one thing, and another tell. 
My soul detests him as the gates of hell. 

Scarcely less interesting, though under a very 
different aspect, is the character of Philoctetes 
himself. The lonely exile has become familiarized 
to misery without being resigned to it; all around 
him has assumed the desolate aspect of his own 
forlorn condition, and yet, without any hope of 



PHILOCTETES. 179 

deliverance, the remembrance of his own country 
is the more endeared to him, as he is separated 
from it by a more hopeless and insuperable barrier. 
The ' Amor patrias' burns inextinguishably in his 
heart. The very garb of Greece is beauty to his 
eye ; the accents of a Greek are music to his ear. 
Absorbed as he might have been in the contempla- 
tion of his own sorrows, (and there is no teacher 
of selfishness like sorrow,) he has not yet forgotten 
his former companions and confederates in arms, 
and his inquiries after them are urged with a ten- 
derness and solicitude truly pathetic. Even the 
misanthrophic scepticism which he has imbibed is 
accordant with the general tone and temper of his 
mind; and, under such circumstances, a heathen 
may be excused for calling in question the impar- 
tiality and justice of the Gods. It was reserved 
for a more enlightened poet than Sophocles to de- 
liver that beautiful aphorism — 

All partial evil — universal good. 

This drama, however, possesses a beauty pecu- 
liar to itself. Scenic descriptions of the utmost 
richness and luxuriance are, indeed, interspersed 

n2 



180 PHILOCTETES. 

throughout all the writings of Sophocles, but the 
drama before us presents by far the finest specimen 
of his descriptive talent. With admirable judge- 
ment he has put the delineation of the surrounding 
wildness and desolation into the mouth of Philoc- 
tetes, the sombre temper of whose mind would 
necessarily invest it with additional gloom. In- 
deed, throughout the whole drama, the prevailing 
charm is Nature ; and however destitute it may be 
of that which is calculated to gratify the sickly 
and vitiated taste of a modern audience, the ravings 
of guilty passion, and the declamation of tumid 
and unnatural heroism, we do not hesitate to main- 
tain, that so long as natural feeling, correct deli- 
neation, a lively exhibition of human character, 
and an intimate knowledge of the human heart, 
possess the power of awakening interest and ex- 
citing the affections, that power will belong, in an 
eminent degree, to the Philoctetes of Sophocles. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



Ulysses. 

Neoptolemus. 

Chorus. 

Philoctetes. 

Spy, disguised as a Merchant. 

Hercules. 



PHILOCTETES. 



ULYSSES, NEOPTOLEMUS. 



XJlys. This is the shore of that sea-circled land, 
Lemnos, x by mortal foot untrodden still, 
Uncheered by mortal dwelling — here, O son 
Of great Achilles, once our mightiest chief; — 



1 It must not be inferred from this expression, that the whole 
island of Lemnos was uninhabited; the contrary being es- 
tablished by the authority of Homer, Odyss. viii. 283 ; 

but simply that part of the coast on which Philoctetes had 
been left, whose range, from the nature of his wound, could 
not have been very extensive. 



184 PHILOCTETES. 

Here, Neoptolemus, in time long past, 

I left the son of Pceas, Melia's lord, 

At the high mandate of the brother kings ; 

When from his foot such noxious venom oozed., 

That nor in reverent silence to the Gods 

Libations could we pour, nor victims slay ; 

But through the camp his wild ill-boding shrieks 

Incessant echoed. — Yet what need of words 

Like these? — No time for tedious converse now, 

Lest he detect my coming, and I lose 

The train of wiles with which I think to snare him. 

Now 'tis thy task my purpose to subserve, 

And first seek out a cave, with double mouth 

So formed, that either end in winter's chill 

Receives the radiance of the genial sun ; 

And in the sultry summer cooling gales 

Breathe through the cleft, inviting soft repose. 

On the left hand thou mayst. at once descry 

A limpid fountain, if 'tis flowing still. 

Approach in silence, and inform me first 

If on this spot, or elsewhere, he resides ; 

That thou mayst hear, and I impart the rest 

Of my design, and thus our task be shared. 

Neop. No distant toil, Ulysses, dost thou give — 
Methinks I see the cave thou hast described. 



PHILOCTETES. 185 

Ulys. Above us, or below ? I see it not. 

Neop. Tis that above — no trace of footsteps nigh. 

Ulys. Look, if reclined in sleep he rest within. 

Neop. To me the habitation seems devoid 
Of human tenant. 

Ulys. Is there nought within 
Formed for domestic uses ? 

Neop. Yes ; with leaves 
The cave is strewed, as one had there reposed. 

Ulys. Is all deserted — is there nought beside 
Beneath the rocky roof ? 

Neop. A drinking cup 
Of wood, by some rude workman roughly wrought ; 
With z implements to rouse the dormant flame. 

Ulys. The scanty store, of which thou speak'st, 
is his. 

Neop. Alas, alas ! here, drying in the sun, 
A few loose rags are laid, discoloured all 
With fetid gore. 

Ulys. Here then, beyond all doubt, 
The man resides, nor is he distant far ; 



a Ylvfuct.. — This word may either signify firewood, or the 
implements for striking fire. The latter supposition, as ap- 
pears from line 296, is the more probable. 



186 PHILOCTETES, 

How should a wretch, with cureless wounds diseased, 
Traverse a lengthened space ? Or he hath gone 
To seek for food, or haply knows some herb 
Lenient to soothe the anguish of his wound. 
Send then this man to keep attentive watch, 
Lest sudden he surprise me,— whom of Greece 
He most desires within his reach to view. 

Neop. Nay, he is gone, and shall observe the 
path — 
If thou wouldst aught beside, unfold thy will. 

Ulys. Son of Achilles, it behoves thee now, 
In the good cause that led thee here, to act 
With firm resolve, and not in might alone ; 
But, when thou hear'st new schemes, untold before, 
To aid my plans, since for this end thou cam'st. 

Neop. What then dost thou enjoin me 1 

Ulys. Thou must seek 
To win with wily and ensnaring arts 
The soul of Philoctetes. When he asks 
" Who art thou, and from whence ?" reply at once 
Achilles' son — this must not be suppressed. 
Say thou art sailing homeward, and hast left 
The naval host of Greece, with deadliest wrath 
Indignant, since they lured thee from thy home 
With prayers, as one to whose resistless arm 



PHILOCTETES. 187 

Alone should Ilion yield ; — yet, when thou cam'st 
Demanding, as thy right, Achilles' arms, 
Disdained thy righteous plea, and gave the prize 
3 To grace Ulysses. Pour upon my name 
The torrent of reproach and foulest scorn ; 
Thou wilt not pain me, but in all the Greeks 
Wilt strike deep sorrow, if thou act not thus. 
For know, unless we gain his darts, in vain 
Wouldst thou essay to storm the Dardan towers. — 
Learn now the cause, why converse with the man 
To thee is sure and safe, though not to me. 
Thou sailed'st hither, bound by 4 oath to none — 

3 The contestconcerning the arms of Achilles was solely 
between Ajax and Ulysses ; we have no account that Neop- 
tolemus laid claim to them. As Philoctetes, however, had 
been absent during the whole affair, Ulysses was at liberty 
to substitute Neoptolemus in the room of Ajax, especially as 
his being the son of Achilles naturally justified his preten- 
sions to the arms of his father. The fiction was therefore 
probable . — Francklin . 

4 The oath is related at large by Eurip. Iph. at Aul. All 
who engaged in this war under the obligations of this oath, 
that is — all who at first embarked with Agamemnon and 
Menelaus, were considered by Philoctetes as his enemies, in 
a conspiracy to expose him on that desert island. Neoptole- 
mus was not of that number ; he therefore had not offended 
the deserted chief. — Potter. 



188 PHILOCTETES. 

By no severe necessity constrained — 
Nor with our former fleet — but nought of these 
By me can be denied. If with his bow- 
Equipped, he should perceive me, I am lost— 
And by my presence should ensure thy ruin. 
This, then, should first be warily contrived, 
How thou mayst steal by fraudful acts away 
Th' unconquerable arms. I know, my son, 
Thou com'st not of a race inured to speak 
In words like these, or forge insidious wiles — 
Yet think, for thee what joy to win the prize ! 
Dare then, — hereafter will we live to justice. 
5 Now but for this brief day resign thy soul 
To me, for once suppress thy sense of shame, 
And ever after be the best of men. 

Neop. If but to hear such words offends mine 
ear, 
Son of Laertes, how I loathe the actions ! 
I am not framed to play a traitor's part, 
And my brave sire, Fame rumours, spurned at fraud. 
I stand prepared to seize the man by force, 
But not by falsehood ; on one foot sustained 
'Twere strange if he could match our manly might. 



Da te hodie mihi. — Terence. Aclelph. 



v. 111. O'Z. 



PHILOCTETES; 189 

And though, as thy confederate hither sent, 
111 should I brook the false betrayer's name ; 
Yet know, O Prince, I deem it nobler far 
To fail with honour, than succeed by baseness. 

Ulys. Son of a noble sire, I thus in youth 
6 Was ever slow in speech, and prompt in deed. 
Now, taught by long experience, I have learnt 
That words, not deeds, direct th' affairs of men. 

Neop. What hast thou bid me but to utter false- 
hood? 

Ulys. By fraud I bid thee seize on Philoctetes. 

Neop. And why by treachery rather than the 
means 
Of fair persuasion ? 

Ulys. Thou wilt ne'er persuade him, 
Nor capture him by force. 

Neop. What matchless might 
Inspires such confidence ? 

Ulys. Unerring darts 
Pointed with certain death. 



6 Similar is the character drawn by Sallust, of Jugurtha, 
in the brighter part of his life. Plurimum facere, et minimum 
ipse de se loqui. So Shakspeare of Troilus :— 

Speaking in deeds, but deedless in his tongue. 

Act iv. Scene 2. 



190 PHILOCTETES. 

Neop. And may none dare 
Ev'n to approach him ? 

Ulys. Tis most perilous, 
Unless, as now I counsel, thou surprize him. 
Neop. Dost thou not count it base to utter false- 
hood ? 
Ulys. No ; not, at least, when falsehood leads to 

safety. 
Neop. And with what front can one presume to 
speak 
In words like these ? 

Ulys. When our advantage calls 
Such scruples should be silenced. 

Neop. How can this 
Conduce to Ilion's downfall 1 

Ulys. To these darts, 
And these alone, the Trojan towers can yield. 
Neop. Am not I then predestined to subvert 

them? 
Ulys. Nor thou without these darts — nor they apart 
From thee. 

Neop. If it be thus, they must be won. 

Ulys. This done, a two-fold recompense awaits 

thee. 
Neop. How ? — tell me this and I refuse no more. 



PHILOCTETES. 191 

Ulys. Thou wilt be styled at once most brave and 

wise. 
Neop. Come on — despite of shame, I will per- 
form it. 
Ulys. Dost thou remember what I late advised 1 
Neop. In once assenting, I remember all. 
Ulys. Thou then remain awaiting his return — 
I must away, lest he detect my presence ; 
Then to the ship 7 do thou despatch the spy. 
Here, too, if your return be long delayed, 
The same will I send forth, in pilot's garb 
Disguised, and in appearance so transformed, 
That to the exile he may seem a stranger. 
From whom, while dubious and perplexed his 

words, 
Catch thou, my son, what best may suit our pur- 
pose. 

7 Musgrave proposes in this passage to substitute Kmo-Tuhuq 
for «tto3-teXw. Is it not more probable that uiroaru^ov is the 
true reading? Whence would arise the necessity of dis- 
guising the ctkottosj if Philoctetes had never seen him before ; 
which would be the case according to the received reading ? 
Doubtless, Neoptolemus would need some messenger to ' re- 
port progress.' 



192 PHILOCTETES. 

I, trusting this to thee, will seek the ship ; 
May Hermes, God of wiles, be now our guide, 
And 8 conquering Pallas, Queen of rampired towns, 
Whose favouring presence evermore preserves me. 

[Exit Ulysses. 



NEOPTOLEMUS, CHORUS. 
STROPHE I. 

Ch. My Lord, a stranger in a foreign land, 
What to the wary exile should I speak, 
Or what suppress ? Instruct me thou. 
For art by art is baffled still, 
And judgement dwells in him who wields 
The sceptre of Immortal Jove. 
To thee, my son, from thy remotest line 



8 Under the name of N'«)i Afiaxa, Minerva was worshipped 
in her temple on the Acropolis of Athens. — (Eurip. Ion. 1550.) 
She was called rioTuas, as being the foundress of that city ; 
though for what reason Ulysses should adopt snch an appel- 
lation in addressing her, it may be difficult to discover. Her 
favour and protection of him are well known. 



PHILOCTETES. 193 

Descends such 9 sovereign sway. Then tell me now, 
How shall I aid thee here ? 

Nieop. Now — for thou haply seek'st to trace 
The spot in this far region where he lies — 
Explore it boldly. When he comes — 
The terrible wanderer — from the cave emerge, 
And, ever watchful of my beck, 
Be near to aid me, as my need demands, 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Ch. Such was my care, O King, ere yet thou 
spak'st, 
To keep for thine occasion heedful eye ;— 
But tell me now in what abode 
He dwells, and where is wont to range ; 
For this, in sooth, 'twere timely now to learn* 
Lest unawares he haply cross my path, 
And thus evade my notice. — Say, what spot, 
And what abode is his ? — Where lies his path ?— 



9 Kpeiroi uyvyiov — potestas ab atavis. From Qgyges, a 
very ancient King of Attica, or of Thebes, or, as some say, 
of the Gods, all ancient and venerable things were called 
uyvyia. Compare Persae iEsch. 71, (37,) 961; Eumen. 1034j 
Pindar Nem. vi. 75, Blomfield. 

VOL. II, 



194 PHILOCTETES. 

Abroad, or in the cave ? 

Neop. Thou sees't his drear abode, where the 
cleft rock 
A double entrance forms. 

Ch. And whither roves the sad inhabitant? 

Neop. I doubt not, but in quest of food 
A path he I0 furrows, and is near us now ; 
Thus, Fame reports, his joyless life 
He still prolongs — with winged shafts 
Smiting the forest-prey, a hopeless wretch ! 
And none hath ever come 
To heal his festering wound. 

STROPHE II. 

Ch. His doom my liveliest pity wakes, 
By mortal voice uncheered — 
Bereft of sympathetic eye ; 
But ever lonely, ever sad, 
He strives with fell disease ; 
And oft in utmost need unaided pines, 



10 'OytAevsi. — There is a peculiar beauty in this expression, 
which it is difficult adequately to convey in a translation.— 
" He trails his foot along so as to make a furrow in the 
ground." 



PHILOCTETES. 195 

Cut off from every solace. How, O how 
Endures the wretch through all ? 

unavailing arts of men ! 

1 O hapless generations of mankind. 
On whom fate sternly frowns ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

He, who perchance in virtue mates 

The noblest of his sires, 

Bereft of all that Nature needs, 

Pines sad and solitary here, 

'Mid beasts that range the wood, 

a And birds of painted wing. Oppressed 

At once with pain and famine, he endures 



1 Perhaps there does not occur in the whole compass of 
ancient or modern poetry a more pathetic sentiment than that 
exquisite passage of Euripides, Hipp. 369 — 

€1 novo) Tps<poi/rBS fipoTsvq. 

O sorrows, ye nurses of mankind ! 

* Musgrave follows Stanley in referring o-wltm to birds — 
Cum avibus vel feris. The expression certainly corresponds 
to the ' pictae volucres ' of Virgil. It is, however, generally 
understood to signify dappled or speckled.— 6 With dappled or 

shaggy beasts.' 

o 2 



196 PHILOCTETES. 

Immitigable woes ; 

A sad inheritance ! 

While to his deep and piercing groans 

Loquacious Echo, murmuring from afar, 

Pours forth a wilder wail ! 

Ne&p. Nought here awakens my surprise. 
If right I deem, Heaven's wrath alone 
Heaped on his head these miseries, 
3 From Chryse's unrelenting wrath derived ! 
Now that he pines unsolaced and alone, 
Is not without the will divine ; 
Lest on the fated towers of Troy 
He hurl th' unconquered weapons of the Gods, 
Ere yet the destined hour arrive 
When those proud towers must fall. 

STROPHE III. 

Ch. Hush ! hush, my son ! 
Neop. And what is this? 



3 Sophocles appears here to follow that legend of Philoc- 
tetes, which relates, that having landed on the Isle of Chryse, 
near Lemnos, he was bitten by a serpent who guarded the 
shrine of Minerva, to whom he had been enjoined to sacrifice 
on behalf of the Greeks. 



PHILOCTETES, 197 

Ch. I seemed to hear a sound, 
A human sound, as though of one in pain. 

Neop. And distant was the voice, or near ? — 
It strikes — it strikes upon me ! 'tis the plaint 
Distinct of one who, in his path, 
With anguish lingers — nor does that deep groan 
Of pain escape me — though afar, 
Yet loudly now it sounds ! 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

Ch. Take yet, my son — 

Neop. Inform me what? — 

Ch. Fresh counsel — for the man 
Is not afar, but still yon cave within — 
4 Nor tuning there the rustic pipe 
As the blithe shepherd ; but on that rough path 
Haply he strikes his wounded foot, 
And shrieks for anguish — or descrying now 
Our ship's inhospitable port; — 
For dreadful are his cries ! 



Long- ere our approaching heard within 

Noise, other than the sound of dance and song ; 

Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. 

Paradise Lost, viii. 242. 



198 PHILOCTETES. 



Enter Philoctetes, 



PHILOCTETES, NEOPTOLEM US, CHORUS. 

Phi. Strangers, ho ! 
Who, who are ye, to this bleak shore impelled 
By friendly port uncheered, or human home ? 
Say, from what region, or what lineage sprung, 
Should I pronounce you ? For the garb ye wear, 
Most welcome to mine eyes, proclaims you Greeks ; 
But I would hear your voices. Do not shrink 
To speak in friendship to so wild a form ; 
Pity a hapless, solitary man, 
Deserted, and in agony. O speak, 
If hither ye indeed are come as friends. 
Ah deign reply — nor justly could I seek 
This grace from you, nor ye from me, in vain. 

Neop, First know then then, O stranger, we are 
Greeks, 
Since this it is thy soul desires to learn. 

Phi. Thrice welcome accents ! Ah ! that I should 
hear 
Such greeting from such lips so long deferred ! 



PHILOCTETES. 199 

What led thee hither, son ? — what urgent need ? — 
What impulse swift? — what most propitious gale? 
Tell me, that I may know thee, who thou art. 

Neop. In sea-encircled Scyros was I born, 
And now am sailing homeward. For my name — 
Tis Neoptolemus, Achilles' son. 
Thou know'st the whole. 

Phi. Son of a sire most dear, 
5 And of a land beloved ! thou youthful charge 
Of aged Lycomedes, with what aim 
Seek'st thou these dreary shores ; — whence loosed 
thy bark ? 

Neop. From Ilion homeward now my course I 
steer. 

Phi. What hast thou said ? Thou wert not of 
the fleet 
When first to Troy our fatal course we sped ? 

Neop. Wert thou too sharer in that arduous toil ? 

Phi. And know'st thou not, my son, on whom 
thou look'st ? 



s Lycomedes, King of Scyros, was father of Deidamia, 
mother of Neoptolemus. Hence, though Phthia was his 
paternal inheritance, he was taught to consider Scyros as his 
home. 



200 FHILOCTETES. 

Neop. How should I know the man I never saw? 

Phi. Hast thou not heard my name, nor yet the 
tale 
Of those unequalled woes which wrought my ruin? 

Neop. Know me in all unconscious of thy doom. 

Phi, O plunged in miseries, and by Heaven ac- 
curst, 
The rumour of whose wrongs hath never reached 
My native land, nor the loved realms of Greece; — i 
But they, who basely thrust me into exile, 
Insult my woes in silence, while my wound 
For ever rankles, and my pangs increase. 
My child, the brave Achilles' martial son, 
I, I am he, whom haply thou hast heard, 
Styled Lord of Hercules' unconquered arms, 
The son of Pceas, wretched Philoctetes. — 
Me, the two Chiefs, and 6 Cephallene's lord, 
Have exiled thus, deserted, wasting still 
With dire disease, engendered by the wound, 
Tinged with the venom of the deadly snake ; 
Thus tortured, O my son, they hither brought — 



6 The rule of Ulysses extended over the Island of Cephal- 
lene. — Homer, II. N. 361, calls him Kstpxfayvav aval;, as in 
the text. 



PHILOCTETES. 201 

Here left me desolate ! what time they steered 

From sea-girt Chrysa to this cheerless isle : 

Soon as they saw me in th' o'er-arching rock 

Asleep, exhausted by the boisterous wave, 

The joyful sailors loosed ; but by my side, 

As for some wandering beggar, first they placed 

A few mean rags, and of the coarsest food 

A scanty dole — such one day be their own ! 

7 Think, think, my son, from that brief broken 

sleep 
How sad the waking, when I gazed around, 
And found my comrades fled ; what bitter tears 
I vainly shed — what sighs of anguish heaved, 
When I perceived the ships in which I came 
Departed all — and none of mortal race 
On that wild spot to aid me in my need, 
Or soothe my gnawing wound. I gazed around — 
Nought met mine eye but misery and despair ! 
And, O my son, of these how large a store ! 
Time lingered on, and day succeeded day, 
While I, sad tenant of this narrow cave, 



7 This whole speech is beautifully paraphrased by Fenelon, 
who has, indeed, interwoven nearly the entire play into his 
Telemachus, book xv. 



202 PHILOCTETES. 

Must toil alone. The pittance nature craved 
This bow supplied, whose certain aim brought 

down 
The fluttering doves ; — whate'er th' unerring shaft 
Struck down, to seize the prey I slowly trailed 
My wounded foot in agony along. 
Nay more ! when thirst required the cooling 

draught, 
Or wintry frosts were stiffening on the ground, 
I crept from out my cave, devising schemes 
To fell me fuel ; yet no flame had I — 
8 But, striking flint on flint, I hardly wrung 
The latent fire, 9 which cheers and warms me still. 
For, with that fire, this closely-sheltered cave 
Provides me all but freedom from disease. 
Learn now, my son, what region thou hast reached. 
This, unconstrained, no mariner draws nigh — 
There is no haven here — the wave-beat crew 
Find here no gain, no welcome refuge here ; 



s Ut silicis venis abstrusuni excuderet ignem, 

Virg. Geo. i. 135. 

9 Erfurdt reads here, e x.a.1 au^oip ki\ — " Which may I ever 
preserve." Either sense is unexceptionable. 



PHILOCTETES. 203 

Nor would the prudent seek a shore like this. 

Perchance one comes reluctant — for long life 

Is fraught with much vicissitude to man ; 

And such, when they arrive, my son ! in words 

Express their pity, and some scant supply 

Of food or raiment to my wants vouchsafe ; 

But, when the boon I seek, all, all refuse 

To bear me homeward. Thus I linger now, 

10 The tenth sad year, in famine and despair, 

Feeding this ever-wasting fell disease. 

These trophies grace th' Atridse, and this deed 

Hath great Ulysses wrought, whom may the powers 

Of high Olympus with such woes repay 

As they have heaped on me ! 

Ch. I, son of Pceas, 
Like mariners to this wild shore impelled, 
Do pity thee. 

Neop. Nay ; I too can attest 
The tenor of thy words, as one who knows 
The two Atridae and Ulysses stamped 
With basest villany. 



Peene decern totis aluit Poeantius annis 
Pestiferum tumido vulnus ab angue datum. 

Ov. Trist. v. 2, 13. 



204 PHILOCTETES. 

Phi. And canst thou, too, 
Charge with injustice Atreus' cursed race, 
So that thy wrongs awake indignant hatred ? 

Neop. O could I so evince my hate in deeds, 
That Sparta and Mycenae might attest, 
Our Scyros, too, the mother of bold heroes ! 

Phi. Tis bravely said ; but whence that deadly 
wrath 
With which thou com'st incensed against the kings ? 

Neop. O son of Pceas, though I scarce can 
brook 
To speak them, I will tell thee all my wrongs — 
When ruthless Fate ordained Achilles' death — 

Phi. Alas ! ere thou speak further, tell me this ; 
Is the brave son of Peleus now no more ? 

Neop. He died, but by no mortal hand, — the 
shaft 
1 Of mighty Phoebus struck the fatal blow. 

Phi. Most noble both, the slayer and the slain. 



1 Such, at least, is the account of Homer, in the prophecy 
of the expiring Hector : — 

Phoebus and Paris shall avenge my fate, 
And stretch thee here, before the Scaean gate. 



PHILOCTETES. 205 

I doubt, my son, or first to ask the tale 

Of thine own wrongs, or mourn thy father's fate. 

Neop. I deem for thee, unhappy as thou art, 
It is enough to dwell on thine own griefs, 
And not to mourn another's. 

Phi. Thou speak'st rightly — 
Resume thy story then, and tell me all, 
Wherein the Atridae wrought thee desperate wrong. 

Neop. The bold Ulysses, and the a Chief whose 
care 
Cherished my father's youth, to Scyros came 
In a proud galley, 3 rich with varied store ; 
Saying— if true or false I cannot judge — 
That, since my sire had perished, Heaven ordained 
No hand, save mine, to storm the stubborn Troy. 
Such was their tale, O stranger ! nor long space 
Did I detain them, but embarked witn speed, 

2 Phoenix. 

3 n<u;a?u><7To*&>.-— Commentators differ as to the precise sig- 
nification of this word. It may either denote well-equipped, 
or many-coloured. Musgrave's conjecture is more ingenious 
than judicious, who interprets it, 'manned with sailors of dif- 
ferent nations/ 



206 PHILOCTETES. 

Urged more than all by fondness for the dead, 
To see him ere entombed, on whom, in life, 
It ne'er was mine to look. Next urged me, too, 
A worthy motive, e'en the thirst of fame, 
To go, and raze the lofty towers of Troy. 
When on my course the second morn arose, 
And to the loathed Sigaeum with swift oars 
I steered, around me, soon as disembarked, 
Flocked the whole host with greeting — vowing all 
That in his son Achilles yet survived. 
Alas ! he lay in death ! I — doomed to woe — 
When o'er his corpse some natural tears had fallen, 
Sought the Atridae, whom I deemed my friends, 
Claiming my father's arms, with all he had. 
Ye Gods ! with what base insult they replied— 
" Son of Achilles, all thy father's wealth 
" Is granted to thy claim, all, save his arms. 
" They grace another, e'en Laertes' son." 
I, bathed in tears, indignantly rejoined, 
" And have ye dared, injurious ! to award 
" My father's arms, ere mine assent obtained 1 " 
Ulysses, for he stood close by, replied : — 
" Nay, youth, in justice gave they those bright 
arms 



PHILOCTETES. 207 

" 4 To me, who saved them and their master's 

corpse." 
I, fired to madness, answered with reproach, 
And called down every curse upon their heads, 
If he should dare bereave me of mine arms. 
He, thus reviled, though ever slow to wrath, 
Was galled by mine upbraidings, and replied : — 
" Thou wert not with us, but wert absent far 
" When need required thy presence. For these 

arms — 
" Since to such height thy vain resentment boils, 
" Ne'er, graced with them, shalt thou to Scyros 

sail." 
Thus hearing, and with shameless taunts reviled, 
I sail to Scyros — of mine own bereft 
By base Ulysses, vilest of the vile ; 
Though less with him than with the kings incensed. 



• Me miserum ! quanto cogor meminisse dolore 
Temporis illius, quo Graium murus Achilles 
Procubuit ! uec me lachrymae, luctusve, timorve 
Tardarunt, quin corpus humo sublime referrem. 
His humeris, his inquam, humeris ego corpus Achilles 
Et simul arma tuli. 

Ovid. Metana. xiii. 280. 



208 PHILQCTETES. 

As on its ruler's will a city hangs, 
So the confederate host — those of mankind 
To honour lost, learn baseness from their lords. 
My tale is told. Whoe'er the Atridse loathes, 
Dear may he be to Heaven as loved by me. 

STROPHE. 

Ch. O mountain-loving Rhea, 5 nurse of all, 
Mother of mightiest Jove, 
Who dwell'st by rich Pactolus' golden stream, 
There, holiest mother, there 
Thee suppliant I implored, 
When on my chief th' Atridse wreaked 
This most injurious wrong ; 
When they his sire's resplendent arms bestowed— 

5 Tlapgwri T«. 

TS,kx. Beat, fj^rep y.a.Y.u.yuv Svvituv r'ctvBputruv 
TI»vrpo(pe, ica.v'honapa.. 

Orph. Hymn. 

Thus Virg. iEn, vi. 495. — Terne omniparentis alumnum. 

Pactolus, a river of Lydia with golden sands. — So '■ auro 
turbidus Hermus." Peculiar honours were paid to Rhea, or 
Cybele, the Goddess here addressed, in Lydia and Phrygia. 
There is a remarkable propriety in the appeal to Rhea, as tu- 
telar Goddess of the country wherein they then were. 



PHILOCTETES. 209 

(Thou ever blessed, whose proud car is drawn 
By slaughtering lions !) — when they gave 
The noblest trophy to Laertes' son ! 

Phi. Possessed, it seems, of cause for just 
offence, 
To this lone isle, O strangers, have ye sailed ; 
And can with me concur, that all these crimes 
From base Ulysses and th' Atridse spring. 
That man, I know, to all injurious words 
All evil acts is prompt — by which he deems 
To compass nought of justice in the end. 
This wakes not my surprise ; —my wonder is 
The elder Ajax bore to see this wrong. 

N.eop. He, stranger, was no more. While Ajax 
lived 
I had not thus been plundered of my right. 

Phi. What hast thou said? — Sleeps Ajax in the 
tomb? 

Neop. He sees no more the welcome light of life. 

Phi. Ah me unhappy 1 But for Tydeus' son, 
And the vile 6 bargain to Laertes sold 



6 We have already adverted to the supposition that TTlysse* 
was the son of Sisyphus — 

VOL. ii. p 



210 PHILOCTETES. 

By Sisyphus — these have not perished too 1 
They were at least unfit for longer life. 

Neap. Not they, be well assured. They flourish 
still 
The first in honour mid the Argive host. 

Phi. But what — does he, the aged and the 
brave, 
My much-loved friend — does Pylian Nestor live ? 
He doubtless had by prudent counsels curbed 
Their guilty outrage. 

JSfeop. Yes ; he lives indeed, 
But lives in sorrow, since 7 Antilochus, 
His sole surviving son, in combat fell. 



The Sisyphian seed, 
By fraud and theft asserts his father's breed. 

Ov. Metam. xiii. 

7 Antilochus was slain by Memnon, according to Homer. 

On the Phrygian plain 
Extended pale, by swarthy Memnon slain. 

Odyss. iv. 

The word (a.ovoz does not signify that Antilochus was the 
only son of Nestor, since we read of Pisistratus in the 
Odyssey, but the only surviving son of the two who had ac- 
companied him to Troy. 



PHILOCTETES. 211 

Phi. Ah me ! how mournful thy report of two, 
Of whom such tale I least desired to hear : 
Ah ! whither, whither must I look, since these 
Have perished, and the vile Ulysses lives, 
Who hath so well deserved their doom of death ? 

Neop. A skilful combatant is he — but fraud 
Though skilful, Philoctetes, sometimes fails. 

Phi. Come, by the Gods, inform me where was he, 
Patroclus, thy brave father's dearest friend ? 

Neop. He too had fall'n. But I will tell thee all 
In one brief word — War never sweeps away 
The vile and worthless, but destroys the good. 

Phi. I do assent, and will for proof inquire 
Of a most worthless and detested wretch, 
Crafty and shrewd of tongue — how fares he now? 

Neop. Of other than Ulysses speak'st thou thus? 

Phi. I mean not him — there was a babbling fool 
Whom none could silence — 8 named Thersites — he, 
This worthy — know'st thou if he live and prosper? 

Neop. I never saw him-— but have heard he lives. 

Phi. Aye ; fit he should — for nothing vile is lost, 
Such the Gods visit with peculiar care — 



s For a description of Thersites, see Pope's II. ii. 265; 

p 2 



212 PHILOCTETES. 

The wily and the traitorous they rejoice 

To rescue from the tomb, but ever send 

To that drear home the righteous and the good. 

How shall I judge, or how extol the Gods, 

Proved, by the actions I would praise, unjust? 

Neop. Son of GEtaean Pceas — henceforth I, 
Beholding from afar the Trojan towers 
And the Atridse, will of both beware. 
Where o'er the better still the worse prevails, 
And honour fades, and infamy is crowned,. 
Such men I never, never will revere. 
Henceforth for me shall Scyros' rocky isle 
Suffice — contented with my native home. 
Now to my ship I go. Thou, son of Pceas, 
Farewell, and be thou happier ! May the Gods 
Heal, as thy soul desires, this sad disease — 
We now depart, and soon as Heaven bestows 
A favouring breeze, will steer our homeward course. 

Phi. And will ye go, my son ? 

Neop. Time calls us now 
To watch beside the ship, not thus remote. 

Phi. Now by a father's, by a mother's love, 
My son ! by all thy home contains most dear, 
I come imploring — leave me not thus lone, 
Forsaken in the woes thine eyes behold, 



PHILOCTETES. 213 

Which thou hast heard for ever I endure ; 
9 Increase thy freight by me. I know, alas, 
Such load is most unwelcome — most abhorred, 
Yet, yet, endure it. To the nobly-born 
Is baseness hateful — honour is their pride. 
Foul shame it were on thee to leave me thus — 
But, O my son, what glory wouldst thou gain, 
Should I, yet living, reach th' (Etaean realms. 
Yield — 'tis not e'en the evil of a day. 
Assent — embark me — cast me where thou wilt — 
The hold, the prow, the stern — I reck not where — 
Where'er thy comrades I may least offend. 
Assent, my son ! By Jove, the suppliant's aid, 
O yield — thus prostrate at thy knees I fall 
Though most infirm and wretched. Leave me not 
On this lone strand, remote from human care ; — 
Oh ! save and bear me to thy friendly home, 
Or to Chalcodon's 10 loved Eubcean towers — 



9 'Ev vrxgegyw Sa /*e, — Uot^eyov, " qui est przeter susceptum 
" opus ; ad susceptum opus additus." Evidently an addition 
to thy freight. By some, however, interpreted, " an over- 
" plus of toil." 

10 Chalcodon, an ancient King of Eubcea. Vide Eurip. 



214 PHILOCTETES. 

Not long my passage thence to (Eta's plains, 
The rocky heights of Trachis, and the flood 
Of clear Spercheius, where to my loved sire 
Thou mayst present me, if, indeed, the grave 
Have not withdrawn him from my gaze for ever. 
Ah ! oft to him, by those who voyaged here, 
Have I despatched my warm and earnest prayer, 
That, hither sending, he would bear me home. 
Or he is dead, or of the charge I gave 
Full lightly have they recked — the common lot 
Of wretchedness — and homeward sped their course. 
Now since to thee my own sad messenger 
I come — O save me, pity my despair, 
Viewing what miseries man must ever dread, 
His doom, how sealed in darkness — prosperous now, 
Now adverse. When unclouded by dismay 
Thy skies are bright, expect a sad reverse ; 
When man is blessed, let him well observe 
His life, lest, unawares, he sink to ruin. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Ch. Have mercy, King ! for his sad tale is told 



Ion. II. iv. 464. Ta aru&pa. are properly the anchorage for 
ships. 



PHILOCTETES. 215 

Of countless woes and keen — 
Such never, never, may my friends endure ! 
But if, O King, thou hat'st 
The Brother-Chiefs severe, 
Their baseness would I now convert 
To this poor exile's gain ; 
And since he long hath lingered joyless here, 
In my good galley would I bear him hence, 
To his loved home — by such a deed 
Evading too the ' vengeful wrath of Heaven. 
Neop. Beware ! lest thou this grace too promptly 
yield, 
And, when thou shar'st the evil of his pangs, 
Then with these words thy feelings ill accord. 



®iuv vipio-w. Nsftso-K, the just and righteous anger of the 
Gods. 

Si genus humanum et mortalia temnitis arma, 
At sperate Deos memores fandi atque nefandi. 

Virg. JEn. i. 508. 

There was also the <p$6»oq ruv SeZv, the causeless or capri- 
cious anger of the Gods, a very striking instance of which 
occurs, line 776, rov q>'§ovov %\ itgoanvaov. Compare Alcest, 
1154, Monk's edit, in which there is a lucid and interesting 
note on the subject. 



216 I*HILOCTETES. 

Cho. Distrust me not— it cannot, shall not be 
That thou should'st charge me with inconstant 
soul. 

Neop. I hold it most unseemly to appear 
Less prompt than thou to grant this timely aid. 
Sail we, if such thy purpose — let him come 
With speed — our ship shall bear him — for repulsed 
He shall not be. May Heaven but grant us hence 
A prosperous voyage to the land we seek. 

Phi. O day most welcome ! dearest of mankind ! 
Loved mariners — how, how shall I requite 
The mighty favour ye have promptly shown ? — 
Hence let us haste, my son, saluting first 
2 My dark and drear abode, that thou may'st learn 
How scantly I have lived — how firmly borne ! 
Alas ! I deem, on agonies like these 
None, save myself, could even brook to gaze- 
But stern necessity hath taught me patience. 

Ch. Hist! let us learn what news — two men 
approach, 



a "Aoikov luomea-iv. Literally, my houseless abode. This is 
a striking instance of the fervent and habitual piety of the 
ancients. Philoctetes would not leave even this miserable 
abode, till he had adored the tutelary Gods. 



PHILOCTETES. 217 

One from thy bark, and one in foreign garb 
Attired — these question — enter then the cave. 

Enter Merchant. 

Mer, Son of Achilles — of this mariner, 
Who, with two others, near thy ship kept guard, 
I asked where I might find thee, since I chanced 
To light upon thee thus — not by design, 
But driv'n by fortune to the self-same strand. 
Steering my bark, as master, light of freight, 
From Ilion homeward to the vine-clad isle 
3 Of Peparethus ; — when I learnt the crew, 
Who now are sheltering in the road, were thine ; — 
I could not sail in silence, till I told 
Tidings which yet thou know'st not — and should'st 
know. 



3 Peparethus is a small island in the JEgean sea, formerly 
noted for producing abundance of olives and wine. 

Nitidaeque ferax Peparethus olivae. 

Ov. Met. vii. 470. 

'Ot> ttoX^w at'o'Ka may possibly mean with no numerous fleet, 
viz. with a single ship. 



218 PHILOCTETES. 

Perchance thou'rt yet unconscious what imports 
Thy welfare — what the counsels of the Greeks 
To thee referring — counsels now no more, 
But deeds, commenced in act, if not fulfilled. 

Neop. Stranger, the service of thy generous zeal, 
Unless I am most base, shall long be owned. 
But now the purport of thy tidings tell, 
What recent plot of Greece 'gainst me thou bearest. 

Mer. Some have already sailed with naval force 
Charged to pursue thee — Phoenix, hoar with age, 
And Theseus' martial sons. 

Neop. To bear me back 
By violence or persuasion ? 

Mer. This I know not — 
I came but to inform thee what I heard. 

Neop. Doth Phoenix, then, and do his comrades 
dare 
This arduous deed to please the sons of Atreus ? 

Mer. Know, 'tis already done — there is no pause, 
Nor lingering here. 

Neop. Why did Ulysses then 
Withhold his ready service— was he checked 
By salutary fear ? 

Mer. He, with the son 
Of Tydeus on like enterprize was bound, 



PHILOCTETES. 219 

When from the port I weighed. 

Neop. For whom, save me, 
Thus did Ulysses sail ? 

Mer. Aye, there was one — but first 
Inform me who is this — and what thou say'st 
Speak in low voice. 

Neop. This man, O stranger, is 
The noble Philoctetes. 
Mer. Say no more, 
But hoist thy sail, and speed thee from the land. 
Phi. What doth he tell, my son? with words 
obscure 
4 Why seeks this mariner to betray my hopes ? 

Neop. I know not yet — but let him frankly speak 
Alike to thee, and me, and these beside us. 

Mer. Son of Achilles, that to thee I breathe 
Forbidden words, relate not to the host, 
From whom, for aid a lowly man may lend, 
I bear an ample largess. 

Neop. I abhor 
The sons of Atreus — this man is my friend, 
My dearest friend, in that he hates them too. 



Literally, why does he buy and sell me in his words? 



220 PHILOCTETES. 

But since thou cam'st in friendship, of the tale 
Which thou hast heard, I pray thee nought conceal. 

Mer. Look to thine actions. 

Neop. I long since have looked. 

Mer. The blame be wholly thine. 

Neop. It shall — but speak. 

Mer. I will. The two bold chiefs, e'en as thou 
hear'st, 
The son of Tydeus and Ulysses sage, 
Bound by an oath have sailed, to bring this man 
A captive, by persuasion, or by force. 
This all the Greeks in open day have heard 
Ulysses vaunt — for greater trust was his 
To win his purpose, than his comrade owned. 

Neop. And for what cause, such lengthened 
space elapsed, 
Would the Atridae now regard the wretch 
Whom for long years to exile they consigned ? 
What need invades them now? What heavenly 

might, 
What righteous wrath avenging impious deeds ? 

Mer. I will recount the whole, since haply thou 
Art uninformed — There was a certain Seer, 
Of race illustrious, Priam's royal son, 
And Helenus his name, whom he that hears 



PHILOCTETES. 221 

From eveiy tongue deserved and keen reproach, 
The base Ulysses, as he prowled alone 
By night, took captive, and his prisoner brought 
Before th' assembled Greeks, a noble prey, 
Who then with other mysteries this revealed : 
-Ne'er should they raze the lofty citadel 
Of Troy so long besieged, till they should lure, 
By smooth persuasion from the rocky isle 
Where now he dwells, this warrior here before thee. 
When thus Ulysses heard the seer proclaim, 
He promptly pledged his faith that he would seek 
This man, and bring him to the Grecian host, 
And, as he deemed, with unreluctant mind ; 
If not, by violence. — Should he fail in this, 
His head should pay the forfeit of his failure. 
Thou hast heard all, my son ! I warn thee now 
To speed thy flight, with all who share thy love. 
Phi. Wretch that I am ! This villain, most 
accursed, 
Hath he then sworn to lure me back to Greece? 
s As soon shall he persuade me, when no more, 



5 Sisyphus, on the approach of death, charged his wife, 
Merope, one of the Atlantides, to leave his body unburied. 



222 PHILOCTETES. 

Like his false father, to return to earth. 

Mer. Of this I nothing know, but to my ship 
Depart. The Gods aright direct you both ! 

[Exit Merchant. 



PHILOCTETES, NEOPTOLEMUS, CHORUS. 

Phi. Is it not galling that Laertes' son 
Should hope by wily blandishments again 
To lure me hence, and show me to the Greeks ? 
O never ! Rather would I lend mine ear 
To the fell viper, which hath maimed me thus.— 
But all things he will say, and all things dare, 
And now I know too surely he will come. 
But let us hence — that soon the wide, wide sea 
May foam 'twixt us and loathed Ulysses' bark. 
Come — let us hence — for timely speed full oft, 



Arriving in Pluto's kingdom, he requested and received per- 
mission to return, in order to punish this seeming impiety of 
his wife, on condition of revisiting hell without delay. No 
sooner, however, was he out of the iufernal regions, than he 
violated his oath, but was afterwards brought back by Mars, 
and punished. 



PHILOCTETES. 223 

The toil accomplished, yields a glad repose. 

Neop. Soon as the gale, fresh blowing towards 
the prow, 
6 Subsides, we'll hence — the wind is adverse now. 

Phi. The winds are ever fair to him who flies 
From wretchedness. 

Neop. Fear not — this breeze to them 
Is adverse also. 

Phi. No adverse winds 
Deter the pirate from his purposed course, 
On plunder bent, and fired by lawless prey. 

Neop. Well, since thou wilt, we sail, when from 
within 
Thou hast provided all thy need demands, 
Or wishes prompt. 

Phi. One thing my need demands, 
Though scant my store. 

Neop. What canst thou need, beyond 
Our bark to furnish ? 

Phi. I possess a herb 
With which the deadly wound I oft assuage, 



6 The Scholiast here reads «y55 for a»v. If this be the 
true reading, it must be quasi ia.y*, from ayvv^, frango. .- 



224 PHILOCTETES. 

And mitigate the anguish. 

Neop. Bring it then — 
Would'st thou take aught beside ? 

Phi. I must beware, 
Lest one of these dread arrows should escape, 
For mortal hands to find. 

Neop. Is this, which now 
Thou bear'st, the far-famed bow ? 

Phi. Yes ; aught besides 
Were stranger to this hand. 

Neop. And may I dare 
To bring it closer to my lips — to hold — 
And 7 kiss the sacred relic as divine? 

Phi. To thee, my son, both this, and aught beside 
Of mine that may delight thee, shall be done. 

Neop. Such is indeed my wish, though but 
indulged 

7 U^ocrnvacct. This word here signifies to kiss, though in v. 
766, (Erfurdt,) it denotes to appease or mitigate by adoration, 
the anger of the Gods. Among the ancients, (as well as the 
modern Orientals,) a kiss was considered the greatest mark of 
veneration and respect. 

Et dare sacratis oscula liminibus. 

Tib. Eleg. i. v. 44. 

Compare also Cic. in Ver. Lib. iv. 43. Virg. j£n. ii. 490. 



PHILOCTETES. 225 

With this control — if it be just — I wish ; 
If not, pass thou my wish unheeded by. 

Phi. Thy words are pious, son !— 'tis justfor thee — 
Thee, who alone hast giv'n me to behold 
The sun's broad light, my own (Etean land, 
My aged father, and my much-loved friends ; 
And bidst me rise triumphant o'er my foes. 
Doubt not — 'tis freely thine to touch the bow ; 
And when thou hast restored it, boast that thou 
Alone of men hast grasped the sacred arms, 
The guerdon of thy virtue. I myself 
By constant friendship won th' immortal gift — 
It will not grieve me then that thou, my friend, 
Should'st view and bear it. He who knows to pay 
A due return for benefits received 
Is a true friend, the dearest earthly good. 

Neop. Now should'st thou go within. 

Phi. Aye — and within 
Will lead thee too, for this my sad disease 
Longs to receive thee as its firm support. 

[Exeunt Neoptolemus and Philoctetes. 



VOL. II. 



226 PHILOCTETES. 

Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Yes ! I have heard in tale, yet ne'er have seen, 
What hopeless anguish he was doomed to feel, 
Who sought the couch of Jove's Imperial Queen, 
Chained by the Thunderer on the 8 whirling wheel ; — 
But none have known, none viewed, of all man- 
kind, 
Like this sad exile, to despair consigned, 
Who, though for guilt, for fraud unblamed, 
For justice 'mid the righteous famed, 
In shame and sorrow thus hath pined ! 
Ah ! much I marvel how he bore 
To list the wild waves' sullen roar ; 
The only sound of life— yet still 
Lived on to keener pangs and deadlier ill : — 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Sole tenant of the shore — scarce faltering on 



8 "Apwvxx. Originally, the fillet used by women to bind up 
their hair ; and hence taken, from its round form, to signify 
a wheel. Musgrave proposes, however, to read uvrvyci. 



PHILOCTETES. 227 

With powerless step — no human succour near; 
No partner of his woe to heed the groan 
Wrung from his bosom by that pang severe ; 
None, when his wound poured forth th' envenomed 

flood 
To stanch with soothing herbs the feverish blood, 
Herbs culled from earth's maternal breast, 
Potent to win a transient rest ! — 
For when to sleep awhile subdued 
His pangs relax — as, yet untried 
To wander from its mother's side, 
Alone the infant seeks to stray ; — 
He crawls with faltering foot his weary way. 

STROPHE II. 

No fruits for him provides the sacred soil, 
No golden grain requites his patient toil, 
He can but aim the winged shafts on high 
From that far-sounding bow, 
And for his hunger win a scant supply. 



9 KxKoynrm. Not a bad neighbour, but a neighbour to 
evil. It must, however, be confessed, that the word does 
occasionally bear the former sense. KuKoyhroves £%6go*. — Callim. 

Q 2 



228 PHILOCTETES. 

Ah joyless soul ! ten lingering years succeed, 
And still, uncheered by wine's enlivening glow, 
He seeks the stagnant waters, sad and slow, 
Where chance his path may lead ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Again for him shall joy resplendent shine, 
From woe to greatness raised — of royal line 
A youth encountering now, who o'er the flood, 
In galley swift of flight, — 
The long, long months fulfilled — to his abode 
Shall bear the exile, where the Melian choir 
Dwell by Spercheius™ where from (Eta's height 
The brazen shielded chief to realms of light 
IO Rose in celestial fire. 

Neap. Crawl forth, if such thy pleasure. — Where- 
fore thus 
Silent without a cause, and sudden struck 
As if with mute amazement ? 

Phi. Woe is me ! 

Neop. What ails thee? 

Phi. Tis a trifle. Come, my son! 



10 The apotheosis of Hercules, which took place on Mount 
CEta, is here adverted to. 



PHILOCTETES. 229 

Neop. Arise fresh sufferings from thy present 

plague ? 
Phi. No, no, in sooth ; I tread more lightly 
now — 
Alas ! ye Gods ! 

Neop. Why thus with bitter groans 
Invoke the Gods ? 

Phi. That they be present now, 
Our guardians and preservers. Ha ! that pang — 
Neop. What anguish wrings thee — wilt thou not 
confess ? — 
Still silent ? Some fresh ill, it seems, hath seized 
thee! 
Phi. I die, my son ! no longer can I quell 
This maddening pain. Ha! there! again it thrills, 
Thrills to my inmost soul. Wretch that I am! 
My son, my son, I perish, I am racked — 

(Repeated and violent groans.) 
Hast thou a sword, my son ? For Heaven's dear 

sake, 
With friendly hand strike off this wretched foot ; 
Quick — smite it off — 'and spare not life itself. 



Erfurdt reads this passage (mi (pUan @id,;, Spare not force. 
The reading we have adopted appears preferable, as it is a 



230 PHILOCTETES. 

Neop. What strange and sudden pang hath seized 
thee now, 
That thus thou utterest wild and bitter cries? 

Phi. Know'st thou, my son?— 

Neop. What is it ? 

Phi. Know'st thou, son? — 

Neop. Know what? 

Phi. Dost thou not know? how know'st thou 
not?— 
% Woe ! woe is me ! 

Neop. The burden of thy pangs 
Is heavy on thee now ! 

more appropriate conclusion to the impassioned ravings of the 
unhappy sufferer. 

2 " Unless all the commentators be mistaken," says the 
Oxford Prose Translator, " these expressions, and the 
thikihixiv of iEschylus, are positive nonsense." We should 
rather be inclined to suppose that all the commentators were 
mistaken, than that either Sophocles or iEschylus could write 
positive nonsense. When we consider the copiousness of the 
Greek language, we surely need not wonder that it cannot be 
adequately rendered by the paucity of our own. Had our 
barbarian Shakspeare written in Greek, he would, doubtless, 
have surpassed iEschylus and Sophocles as far as he excels 
every modern dramatic poet, though even in this case it would 
not be a necessary consequence that he should altogether 
have discarded interjections. 



PHILOCTETES. 231 

Phi. Heavy indeed ! 
No words can paint it — yet — O pity me! 

Neop. What can I do to aid thee? 

Phi. Do not thou 
In wild amaze betray me to my foes. 
The pangs revive by starts — perchance, ere long, 
They will have run their course, and cease. Ah me ! 

Neop. Unhappy man ! thine anguish wakes my 
pity- 
Proved most unhappy in thy countless ills. 
Shall I uphold thee with sustaining hand ? 

Phi. No, no ; not thus— but take these hallow- 
ed arms, 
As thou didst seek to hold them, till the pangs 
That rend me now, exhausted, shall subside; 
Take thou, and guard them well. Slumber is wont 
To seize and soothe me when the pangs are o'er ; 
Nor can I rest till then — but I must lie 
In undisturbed repose. And if, meantime, 
My foes approach, I charge thee by the Gods, 
Nor by assent, nor force, nor any means, 
To yield these arms to them, lest thou consign 
Both me, thy suppliant, and thyself to death. 

Neop. Be calm, and trust my caution—- to no hand, 
Save to mine own and thine, shall they be given. 



232 PHILOCTETES. 

Yield them with favouring omens to my care. 

Phi. Receive them, my son. But pay thy 
vows 
To Envy, lest they prove the source of woe, 
As they have been to me and were to him 
Their first and great possessor. 

Neop. Grant, ye Gods! 
Such may my fortune be — and may our course 
Be swift and prosperous, where disposing Heaven 
Wills in its justice, and my bark is bound. 

Phi. O but, I fear, thy prayers are breathed in 
vain. 
Alas, my son ! 
Once more th' ensanguined stream from this deep 

wound 
Is oozing fresh, and keener pangs impend. 
Ah me ! Ah me ! 

Why, cursed foot, why dost thou thus torment me? 
Ah ! it steals on — 

It comes — it comes — 'tis here — Wretch that I am ! 
Thou seest my sad estate. Ah ! fly me not ! 
O that like pangs might rend thy guilty breast, 
Stranger of Cephallene. — Ah ! I groan 
Again — and yet again. — O brother chiefs 
O Agamemnon, Menelaus, that ye 



PHILOCTETES. 233 

Could feel the anguish I have felt so long ! 
Death — death — so oft, so long invoked in vain, 
Day after day, wilt thou not come at last? 
My son, my noble son, afford thine aid. 
Ah burn me, burn me, in the flames that 3 curl 
Around us, generous youth ! Such task as I 
For these good arms, which now thou keep'st, dis- 
charged 
To Jove's great son, do thou the same for me. 
What say'st thou, son ? 

What say'st thou? wherefore mute? alas, where art 
thou? 

Neap. I mourn in pity to behold thy woes. 

Phi. Ah ! be not thou dejected — with such pangs 
The fit comes on, and is as quickly past. 
But, I conjure thee, leave me not alone. 

Neop. Cheer thee ! we will remain. 

Phi. And wilt thou stay? 

Neop. Account it certain. 

Phi. By an oath to bind thee, 



3 We do not read here uvcLxuhvpsva, as in Erfurdt's edition, 
but, according to Brunck, uvomviChiipLva. The isle of Lemnos 
appears to have emitted volcanic fires, which is probably the 
reason why it was consecrated to Vulcan. 



234 PHILOCTETES. 

I should disdain, my son ! 
Neop. Justice, at least, 
Would now forbid me to depart without thee. 
Phi. Pledge me thy hand. 
Neop. I do, I will remain. 
Phi. Now thither— thither— 
Neop. Whither dost thou mean. 
Phi. Upwards — 

Neop. Thou rav'st again — why dost thou gaze 
Thus wildly on the azure vault of heaven ? 
Phi. Release, release me! 
Neop. Whither thus release thee — 
Phi. Release me now. 
Neop. I will not yet release thee. 
Phi. Thou wilt destroy me, if thou touch me 

still. 
Neop. Lo, now I leave thee to thyself, and what 
Is yet thy purpose? 

Phi. Take, O take me, Earth, 
Expiring to thy bosom, for this plague 
Will leave me strength to stand upright no more. 
Neop. Sleep, it should seem, ere long will soothe 
his woes. 
His powerless head already droops to earth ; 
And his whole frame a copious sweat bedews. 



PHILOCTETES. 235 

Lo ! in his foot one black and ruptured vein 
Emits the gore. Now leave we him, O friends, 
That sleep may soothe him in a bland repose ! 

STROPHE. 

Ch. 4 Sleep, gentle sleep, in pain, in griefs un- 
taught, 
Come with thy softest gales, — 
O peace-imparting Power! 
Veil from his eyes the 5 broad red glare of day ; 
Come, healing God, O come! — 
Look well, my son, or where thou pause, 
Or whither move — and when occasion asks 
My willing aid ! The gales invite, 
And why delay the deed? 
To seize aright th' important hour 
Avails to prompt success 

4 This passage, beautiful as it is, is excelled by those ex- 
quisite lines of Euripides : 

'£1 (pIXov virvu BeKyyirpoi/, iirwupov voaa 

£lq rioii p,eu wpocriJJw'Ej ev oBovri yi. 

£1 Trorna Twivri tuv Kaauv, uc, tl, a~o(pri } 
Ka< Tojcrt avo-rvyiio-iv ivuraia. &£oj. 

Eurip. Orest, 205. (Porson's edit.) 

5 Some, including Erfurdt, read here k-friv for a»yX«», 
which would altogether invert the sense of the passage— 
" Stretch over his eyes the mist of darkness." 



236 PHILOCTETES. 

Beyond sage counsel, or superior might. 

Neop. Nay, nought he hears. I know, if he re- 
main, 
In vain we seize his arms and sail to Troy; 
To him this crown belongs — -we bear him hence 
By Heaven's command — and 6 'tis a base reproach 
To vaunt with falsehood promise unredeemed. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Ch. For this, my son, for this let Heaven pro- 
vide — 
But when again thou speak'st, 
In low and whispered tone 
Reply, my son ! the slumber of disease 
Is light and watchful still, — 
But thou, far as thou may'st, explore 
For me the purpose which is labouring now 
Deep in thy breast concealed. Thou know'st 
The man of whom I speak; 
And, if thy thought with his accord, 
Tis wisdom's part to trace 
The depth of counsels that perplex the simple. 

6 Some understand these words as referring to Ulysses, 
others, to Philoctetes. Brunek, whom we have followed, 
inclines to the former opinion. 



PHILOCTETES. 237 

The gale, the gale is ours — in slumber, still 
As midnight rest, he lies. Be sleep, of fear 
7 Devoid, our aid, enchaining hand, foot, heart. 
He looks as of the dead. Thy bidding speak — 
8 This task, O son, my prudence can perform; 
Toil most avails, when most of fear devoid. 

Neop. Peace — peace — I charge thee, from such 
thoughts refrain ; 
For lo, — his eyelids move — he lifts his head. 

Phi. O light to sleep succeeding ! faithful care 
Of these kind strangers far beyond my hope! 
I never deemed, my son, that thou wouldst bear 
With constant pity mine unrivalled ills, 
And still thy presence and thine aid bestow. 
Such toil those noble and right worthy chiefs, 
Th' Atridae, never had thus lightly brooked ; 
But thou, a gallant father's generous son, 
Dear youth ! with stedfast soul hast promptly borne 
My groans — and fetid odours of my wound. 



7 We concur with Reiske and Musgrave in reading £$m 
for «Ae»j?. 

8 This is a very perplexed passage : it appears to convey a 
hint of the ease with which Philoctetes might be seized when 
asleep. The obscurity is evidently designed. 



238 PHILOCTETES. 

Now, since this genial sleep has kindly lent 
Brief respite from my sufferings, O my son, 
Raise me from earth, and fix me on the ground, 
That, when the anguish ceases, we may go 
To our good ship — nor yet delay our course. 

Neop. Much I rejoice to see, beyond my hopes, 
Thine eye to light, thy frame from pain restored. 
Thy pangs regarding, and that death-like rest, 
I deemed, in sooth, thy latest hour was nigh. 
Raise now thyself — or, if it please thee more, 
These will support thee, nor refuse the toil, 
So thou assent, and I command their service. 

Phi. I thank thee, son, and raise me as thou 
say'st — 
But leave thy crew, lest, ere our need demands, 
The fetid odours reach them ; — 'tis enough 
To bear such loathsome comrade in their bark. 

Neop. This as thou wilt, but rise, and lean on me. 

Phi. Courage ! I will, as is my wont, arise. 

Neop. Ye Gods ! I waver— what should next be 
done? 

Phi. My son, what mean'st thou? whither tends 
thy speech? 

Neop. I know not whither I should turn my words, 
Perplexed and dubious ! 



PHILOCTETES. 239 

Phi. Dost thou speak of doubt? 
Nay, talk not thus, my son. 

Neop. Yet even now 
In such am I involved ! 

Phi. Hath then the ill 
Of my disease impelled thee to withhold 
The passage promised late ? 

Neop. All must be ill 
When man the bias of his soul forsakes, 
And does a deed unseemly. 

Phi. But I know 
Nought of thy sire unworthy wilt thou do 
In granting aid to one not wholly worthless. 

Neop. I shall appear a villain — hence my grief. 

Phi. Tis not thy deeds, thy words excite my 
terror. 

Neop. Great Jove direct me ! Shall I twice be 
proved 
A villain, first concealing sacred truth — 
Then uttering words of falsehood? 

Phi. Or my fears 
Deceive me, or this man designs to sail 
And leave me here, abandoned and betrayed. 

Neop. I will not leave thee — 'tis my liveliest fear 
Lest to thy sorrow I should bear thee hence. 



240 PHILOCTETES. 

Phi. What dost thou mean, my son? Thy words 

perplex me. 
Neop. Nought will I hide. Thou must away to 
Troy, 
To the Atridse and the host of Greece. 
Phi. Ah me! what say'st thou? 
Neop. Till thou hear'st, be calm. 
Phi. What must I hear ; what is thy purpose now ? 
Neop. First from thine ills to rescue thee— then 
sail 
To raze with thee the haughty towers of Troy. 
Phi. Is this indeed thy sure and settled aim? 
Neop. Necessity constrains me to the deed. 
Hear then in calmness, and thy wrath restrain. 
Phi. Ah! I am lost — betrayed. What hast thou 
done? 
O stranger — quickly give me back my arms. 

Neop. It cannot be. Justice and interest both 
Constrain obedience to superior power. 

Phi. 9 Thou blasting flame ! Thou horror of my 
soul! 



9 The Scholiast, with his usual felicity of conjecture, in- 
terprets this as an execrable pun on the name of Pyrrhus, in 
which he has been followed by Brumoy, who paraphrases it, 



PH1L0CTETES. 241 

Thou loathed inventor of atrocious fraud ; 

What hast thou done — how wronged my easy 

faith ? 
Doth it not shame thee to behold me thus, 
A suitor and a suppliant, wretch, to thee ? 
Stealing my bow, of life thou hast bereft me. 
Restore, I pray thee, O my son, restore it ! 
By thine ancestral Gods, take not my life ! 
Wretch that I am ! he deigns not e'en reply, 
But still looks backward, as resolved to spurn me. 
10 Ye ports, ye beetling crags, ye haunts obscure 
Of mountain-beasts, ye wild and broken rocks, 
^o you I mourn, for I have none beside \ 
To you, who oft have heard me, tell the wrongs, 
The cruel deeds Achilles' son hath wrought ! 
Pledged to convey me home, he sails to Troy — 
Plighting his hand in faith — he meanly steals 
My bow, the sacred arms of Jove's great son; 



*' O rage digne de ton nom." Both the Scholiast and his imi- 
tator appear to have forgotten, that the son of Achilles was 
known only to Philoctetes by the name of Neoptolemus. 

10 Daphni, tuum Poenos etiam ingemuisse leones, 
Interitum, montesque feri sylvaeque loquuntur. . 

Virg. Ec. v. 27. 
VOL. II. R 



242 PHILOCTETES. 

And would display them to the Grecian host. 

By force he takes me, as some vigorous chief, 

Nor knows his triumph is achieved o'er one 

Long- helpless as the dead — a shadowy cloud — 

An empty phantom. In my hour of might 

He ne'er had seized me thus, since, in my ills, 

He but by fraud entrapped me. I am now 

Deceived to my despair. What shall I do ? 

Ah! yet restore them, be again thyself. 

What dost thou say? — Yet silent? — Then I perish. 

Thou double portal of the rock, again, 

I enter thee, of arms, of life, deprived ; — 

But I must pine forsaken in the cave ; 

Nor winged bird, nor mountain-ranging beast, 

Shall these good darts bring down. I yield in 

death 
To those a banquet, who supplied mine own ; 
They whom I once pursued shall hunt me now ; 
While with my blood their slaughter I atone, 
Betrayed by one who seemed the soul of honour. 
I will not curse thee, ere I learn, if yet 
Thou wilt relent— if not, all evil blast thee ! 

Ch. What do we, King! we wait but thy com- 
mand, 
To sail— or yield to this poor exile's prayer? 



PHIEOCTETES. 243 

Neop. On me, indeed, compassion strongly fell 
Long since, when first his piteous tale I heard. 

Phi. Have mercy on me, by the Gods, my son ! 
Shame not thyself in thus beguiling me. 

Neop. What shall I do ? — Oh had I never left 
My native Scyros ! this unworthy deed 
Is hateful to me. 

Phi. No ; thou art not base, 
Though lessons of dishonour hast thou learnt 
From evil men. To others leaving now 
Such arts, sail hence, restoring first mine arms. 

Neop. What, comrades, shall we do? 

[Extending the Bow to Philoctetes. 
Ulysses rushes on the 



ULYSSES, PHILOCTETES, NEOPTOLEMUS, CHORUS. 

Ulys. What wouldst thou do, 
O vilest of mankind ? Wilt thou not hence, 
The sacred arms resigning to my hand ? 

Phi. Ha! who is this? — Ulysses do I hear? 

Ulys. Aye! I, who stand before thee, am Ulysses. 

Phi. O! I am sold, undone. This is the wretch 
Who snared, and hath despoiled me of mine arms. 

r 2 



244 PHILOCTETES. 

Ulys. 'Tis I, in sooth — none else. I own the 
deed. 

Phi. Restore, resign the arms to me, my son. 

Ulys. This, did he wish, he would not dare to 
grant. 
But thou must hence with us, or these around 
By force shall drag thee. 

Phi. Villain! of the vile 
At once the vilest, and most daring too, 
Shall these by force constrain me ? 

Ulys. Aye! unless 
Thou go spontaneous. 

Phi. O thou Lemnian land! 
Thou all-controlling flame, by Vulcan framed, 
Can wrong like this be borne, and shall he dare 
To force me from thy shelter? 

Ulys. It is Jove, 
Yes, Jove, supreme controller of the land, 
Jove thus hath willed — and I but do his will. 

Phi. Detested wretch ! what falsehoods dost 
thou frame ! 
The Gods alleging — thou dost tax the Gods 
With lies, to gloss thine own dissembling guile. 

Ulys. No ; they are ever true. Yet, in this way, 
Thou must proceed. 



PHILOCTETES. 245 

Phi. I will not. 
Ulys. But thou shalt — 
Thou must obey. 

Phi. Ah ! what a doom is mine ! 
Did then my sire beget me as a slave, 
And not the heir of freedom ? 

Ulys. Nay, not thus ; 
But mated with the noblest; — leagued with whom 
Thou must take Troy, and raze her towers to earth. 

Phi. O never! were I doomed to every woe, 
While yet for me this lofty shore stands firm. 
Ulys. What wilt thou do then ? 
Phi. I will cast me down 
From rock on rock, and bathe my brow in blood. 
Ulys. Ho — seize him — lest he execute his threat. 
Phi. What do ye suffer, O my hands ! deprived 
Of your loved bow — by this base wretch ensnared. 
O thou, whose wisdom claims no kindred tie 
With honour and with freedom, with what wiles 
Hast thou beguiled me, with what arts deceived ! 
Making this youth thy tool — unknown to me — 
Unworthy to partake thine infamy — 
Of my regard more worthy, who but knew, 
Without a thought, to work thy base command. 
Remorse, I see, corrodes his bosom now 



246 PHILOCTET'ES. 

For his own guilt, and grief for my despair. 

Thy faithless soul, for ever versed in wiles, 

Alike against his nature and his will, 

Hath well foretaught him to be wise in guilt. 

And now, O wretch ! thou deem'st to drag rae, 
bound, 

From this drear cavern, where thyself exposed me, 

Deserted — friendless — from my home afar — 

A corpse among the living. Vengeance blast thee I 

Ah ! oft for this due vengeance have I prayed, 

But Heaven to me accords no favouring boon, 

And thou liv'st on exulting, while I pine 

A very wretch, involved in countless ills, 

To thee a mockery, and the brother-Kings, 

The sons of Atreus, whose base tool thou art. 

1 Thou, by their wiles ensnared, and bound by oath, 

Didst share th' emprize. Me, of mine own free 

will, 
Who sailed to battle with my 2 seven good ships, 

1 Ulysses, unwilling to go among the other Greeks to the 
siege of Troy, feigned himself mad ; but, being detected by 
Palamedes, was obliged to join them. — Francklin. 

1.7TTCC. HtUV. 

Horn. II, ii. 



PHILOCTETES. 247 

Have they thrust forth to exile, as thou say'st, 
Charging on them the crime they charge on thee. 
And now why seek me? Wherefore drag me hence? 
I, who am nothing, dead long since to you ! 
How, thou wretch, most hateful to the Gods ! 
Am I not lame, my wound offensive still ? 
How can ye serve the Gods in prayer ? — how slay 
The votive victims, if I share your bark ? 
How pour libations due? Such was the plea 
On which ye first expelled me. Curses on ye ! 
Ye, who have wronged me thus, yourselves shall 

meet 
An equal doom, if Heaven cares aught for justice. 
I know, I know it does, for never else 
Would ye have voyaged for a wretch like me, 
Had not a goad from Heaven itself constrained you. 
J But, O my father-land, all-seeing Gods ! 
Avenge, avenge me in your own good time 
On all my foes, if ye, indeed, have aught 
Of pity for a wretch, who pines in ills, 



3 Wakefield reads here, ii vvpur) yii — conjecturing that 
Philoctetes meant to apostrophize the land of Lemnos. The 
conjecture, like most of the same editor, is ingenious but 
fanciful. 



248 PHILOCTETES. 

Worthiest of pity. Could I see them fall, 
I think my pangs would never wake again ! 

Ch. Stern is the stranger, and his words are stem, 
Ulysses, and he will not bend to ills. 

Ulys. Much to his passionate speech could I reply 
If time were meet ; — one word must now suffice. 
When Greece needs men like this, such then am I — 
When just and pious men th' emergence asks, 
None wilt thou find more pious than myself. 
Tis still my wish to triumph over all 
Excepting thee — to thee I promptly yield. 

[To the Chorus. 
Release your charge, nor hold him longer thus : 
Let him remain. We have no need of thee, 

[To Philoctetes. 
So but thine arms are ours, — since in the camp 
Teucer is present, practised in this art; — 
I, too, am no less skilful than thyself 
To bend the bow, and aim th' unerring shaft. 
What ask we then of thee ? Back to thy cave, 
And pace with sullen tread the Lemnian isle ; 
Let us away— perchance this prize for me 
May win the fame to thee by Heaven assigned. 

Phi. Ah me ! what can I do ? And shalt thou 
shine 



PHILOCTETES. 249 

Glorious 'mid Greece, with these mine arms adorned ? 

Ulys. Answer me not, for I am now departing. 

Phi. Son of Achilles, shall thy voice no more 
Address me — but wilt thou, too, leave me thus? 

Ulys. Retire, nor heed him, generous as thou 
art, 
Lest woman-pity mar our better fortune. 

Phi. Will ye, too, strangers, leave me thus for- 
lorn, 
A wretch abandoned, nor have pity on me ? 

Ch. This youth is our commander — what to thee 
He shall reply, the same we answer too. 

Neop. Ulysses will reproach me, as too prone 
To weak compassion — yet, if such his will 
Remain, till in the ship our mariners 
Are ready, and our vows to Heaven are made. 
Meantime his purpose, haply, he may change 
More to our profit ; — haste we now away ; 
Ye, when we call, with speed obey the summons. 

STROPHE I. 

Phi. O dwelling of the caverned rock, 
By changing seasons cheered, or cooled, 
How am I then, unhappy ! doomed 
Never to quit thy drear abode ; 



250 PH1LOCTETES. 

But thou wilt be my shelter ev'n in death. 

Woe, woe is me ! 

O cheerless cave, replete 

With all that wrings the joyless breast, 

Whence shall my daily food 

Be won, and to my need 

Who shall extend relief; — what cheering hope 1 

4 O would the direful brood 

Of Harpies, flapping hoarse their sounding wings, 

Waft me aloft, for I can bear no more ! 

STROPHE II. 

Ch. Thou, thou alone, unhappy! on thine head 
Hast drawn these woes — no other hand 
On thee hath wreaked this doom — 
When wisdom called thee to decide, 
Thy free election chose the heavier ill. 



4 There is much diversity of opinion respecting the true 
reading of this passage. Aldus has irruiuthq; Gedicke, ir\u- 
tahq. Several other conjectures are made by the Scholiast. 
Vossius, however, considers wnwa&j (from the obsolete word 
vrTutiv, cadere) the preferable reading, which, Erfurdt says, 
he embraces for want of a better. The allusion is probably 
to the Harpies. 



PHILOCTETES. 251 



ANTISTROPHE I. 

Phi. I then, a wretch, a hopeless wretch, 
"Wasted by ever-gnawing pangs, 
From henceforth in extremest woe, 
Torn from the converse of mankind, 
Here must abide and perish— Ah what doom 
Of misery — 

No more with food supplied, 
With winged shaft and vigorous hand 
Seizing the prey no more : 
But unsuspected fraud 
And wily words my cooler sense beguiled. 
Ah ! could I see the wretch, 

Who planned the guileful scheme, like me con- 
signed, 
Through equal years to equal agony ! 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Ch. The doom, the doom of Heaven — no trea- 
cherous scheme 
Framed by my hand hath wrought thee this ! 
Turn then, on others turn 
Thy bitter curse of agony ; 
E'en this I seek, that thou my kindness spurn not. 



252 PHILOCTETES. 



STROPHE III. 

Phi. Ah me ! Now seated on the shore 
Of the white-foaming main, 
He mocks me, poising in his hand 
The solace of my woes, 

Which none of mortals, save myself, hath borne. 
My bow, my only friend, 
And wrested from a friendly hand, 
How wouldst thou look, if sight and sense were thine, 
In pity on the friend 
Of Hercules — thus plunged 
In heaviest ills, who ne'er shall bend thee more ! 
Henceforth— how sad the change! 
Wilt thou obey a man of many wiles ; 
Attesting impious fraud, 
Beholding one abandoned and accursed, 
Who plots unnumbered crimes — all woes 
Which on my head hath base Ulysses heaped ! 

STROPHE IV. 

Ch. To speak the truth with frankness is the 
part 
Of manly bosoms — not to vent 
In vehement speech invidious wrath. 



PHILOCTETES. 253 

Our King, from all the chiefs 

Of Greece preferred, by his good counsels led, 

Hath done a public service to the state. 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

Phi. Ye winged tribes, ye tameless herds 
Who ever range the hills 
Of this inhospitable isle ; 
Come from your coverts now 
Undaunted — I no longer wield 
The bow, so feared before, 
To feeble wretchedness consigned. 
Henceforth the spot is left unguarded all, 
And ye have nought to dread. 
Come — 'tis the moment now, 
Blood to avenge with blood, and on my flesh 
Your angry vengeance sate, 
For I am quickly sinking to my doom ! 
What can supply my wants, 
Who on the empty air alone must feed, 
Bereft of all the genial food, 
Earth, nurse of man, produces for her sons ? 

ANTISTROPHE IV. 

Ch. If thou regard the man who comes, to thee 



254 PHILOCTETES. 

Benevolent, his cares requite. 

For know, know well, for thee 

Escape is open still. 

Hard is thy fate to bear, and yet 

Unschooled to meet the wills its doom involves. 

Phi. Again, again thou wak'st mine ancient woes 
To new remembrance keen ; 
The worthiest thou of all who e'er have trod 
Our isle, why wound me thus — what hast thou done? 

Ch. Why say'st thou this? 

Phi. If thou indulge a hope 
To bear me yet to Troy's detested land. 

Ch. Such to my thought the wisest scheme ap- 
pears. 

Phi. Then, then this moment leave me to my doom. 

Ch. Welcome, most welcome, is thy bidding 
now, 
And cheerful I obey. — 
Away — away ! 
Seek we the ship, obedient to our chief. 

Phi. s Go not, I pray, by Jove who hears the 
curse ! 



'Ap»i« A«o?. — " Jove who is called to witness by suppliants.' 



PHILOCTETES. 255 

Ch. Be calmer then. 
Phi. Ah ! strangers, tarry by the Gods ! 
Ch. What means 
This sudden cry ? 

Phi. Ah miserable me ! 
Fate ! unrelenting fate ! I am undone — 
A very wretch accurst ! 

My foot, my foot, how can I yet endure thee ? 
How can I yet live on? 
Return, O strangers, yet awhile return. 
Ch. What does thy purpose vary now 
From all thy recent speech expressed ? 

Phi. Shall one be blamed, who, maddening in 
his pain, 
Utters delirious and distracted words ? 

Ch. Go then, as we exhort thee, wretched man ! 
Phi. O never, never ! — Fixed is my resolve, 
Though the dread Lord of lightning blast me here 
With the red flashing of his fiery bolts. 
Let Ilion perish, with each hated chief, 
Who, unrelenting, spurned this deadly wound. 
But ye, O strangers, grant but one brief prayer! 
Ch. What is thy will ? 
Phi. A sword, or sharpened axe, 
Or deadlier weapon, to my need convey. 



256 PHILOCTETES. 

Ch. What can a gift like this achieve for thee? 

Phi. To lop with mine own hand this head — 
these limbs — 
My soul is bent on death. 

Ch. Why thus ? 

Phi. To seek my much-loved sire — 

Ch. Whither on earth ? 

Phi. Nay ; in the dreary grave, 
For light and life are his no more. 
My country ! O my country, most beloved ! 
How, thus abandoned, should I look on thee, 
I, who have left thy sacred streams 
To aid the legions of detested Greece, 
And thus am nothing now ! 

Ch. Nay; now indeed long since beside my 
ship 
Had I been walking, save that I descried 
Ulysses coming with Achilles' son. 
Swift they approach, and now before us stand. 

Enter Neoptolemus and Ulysses. 



ULYSSES, NEOPTOLEMUS, PHILOCTETES, CHORUS. 

Ulys. Wilt thou not tell me, wherefore on this way 



PHILOCTETES. 257 

Thou steal'st thus earnest to retrace thy path ? 
Neop. To make atonement for my former errors. 
Ulys. Thy words amaze me — Wherein hast thou 

erred ? 
Neop. Wherein by thee and all th' united host 
Persuaded — 

Ulys. What then, that becomes thee not, 
Hast thou accomplished ? 

Neop, With ungenerous guile 
And fraudful arts a noble soul betrayed. 

Ulys. Whom — whom? Ah me! What new design 

impels thee? 
Neop. Nought new indeed — but to the son of 

Pceas — 
Ulys. What wilt thou do? — How fear is stealing 

on me. 
Neop. From whom I took these arms, to him 

once more — 
Ulys. O Jove! what say'st thou? Mean'st thou 

to restore them ? 
Neop. Yes ; for I won and keep them still by 

baseness. 
Ulys. Nay, by the Gods ! in mockery speak'st 

thou thus ? 
Neop. Aye — if to speak the truth be mockery ! 

VOL. II. s 



258 PHILOCTETES. 

Ulys. What, son of great Achilles, dost thou 

say? 
What hast thou uttered ? 

Neop. Will it pleasure thee 
That twice and thrice I should repeat my words ? 
Ulys. 'Twas sore against my will to hear them 

once. 
Neop. Be now assured, for thou hast heard the 

whole. 
Ulys. There is, there is, who will prevent the 

deed. 
Neop. Ha — who shall dare to hinder me in this? 
Ulys. Th' assembled host of Greece — among 

them I. 
Neop. Wise though thou art, thy words betray 

no wisdom. 
Ulys. Neither thy words nor actions speak thee 

wise. 
Neop. If both are just, 'tis better far than wis- 
dom. 
Ulys. How is it just the trophies to restore, 
By my sage counsels gained? 

Neop. I grossly erred, 
And would retrieve mine error. 
Ulys. Fear'st thou not, 



PHILOCTETES. 259 

For such an act, th' avenging- host of Greece ? 

Neop. 6 In a just cause thy terrors I despise, 
Nor shall thy hand direct me at thy will. 

Ulys. Henceforth with Troy we war not, but 
with thee. 

Neop. Well — be it so. 

Ulys. Seest thou my right hand laid 
On my sword's hilt? 

Neop. And dost not thou see mine 
In the same act ; nor shall it linger there 1 

Ulys. I will forbear — but when the tale I tell 
To our whole army, they will best chastise thee. 

Neop. Thy prudence I commend — act ever thus, 
And cause of sorrow rarely will be thine. — 
Come forth, thou son of Poeas, Philoctetes, 
Quitting once more thy rocky dwelling place. 

Phi. Ah ! what new clamour through my cave 
resounds ? 



There is no terror, Cassius, in thy threats, 
For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
Which I regard not. 

Jul. Caesar, Act iv. Sc. 3. 
s 2 



260 PHILOCTETES. 

Why am I called? What, strangers, is your will? 
Alas ! some foul device ! And are ye come 
To heap fresh sorrows on my former woes \ 

Neop. Courage — and hear the words I bring thee 
now. 

Phi. I hear in terror. — By thy words betrayed, 
To woe already have those words consigned me ! 

Neop. Is there no place for true repentance 
still? 

Phi. Such were thy words, so winning, when 
mine arms 
Thou stolest, frank in aspect, false in heart. 

Neop. Such are not now — I wish thee but to 
hear me. 
Still art thou firmly fixed to linger here, 
Or wilt thou share our voyage ? 

Phi. Hush ! no more — 
If thou speak thus, thy words are bootless all. 

Neop. Art thou decided ? 

Phi. Aye, far more resolved 
Than words can tell thee ! 

Neop. Much could I have wished 
My words might yet persuade thee ; but if speech 
Can nought avail my purpose, I am mute. 



PHILOCTETES. 261 

Phi. 7 Thy words are vain indeed. Thy fraud- 
ful soul 
Shall never win my friendly thought again ; 
Thou, who by craft of life itself dost rob me, 
And then with idle exhortations com'st, 
Thou basest son of a most noble sire ! 
Perdition seize ye all — th' Atridse first, 
Ulysses next, then thee ! 

Neop. Forbear thy curse, 
And from my hand again thine arms receive. 

Phi. What say'st thou ! Shall we then be twice 
deceived ? 

Neop. Nay — 8 by the awe of holy Jove I swear ! 



7 Came he right now to sing a raven's note, 
Whose dismal tone bereft my vital powers, 
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, 
By crying comfort from a hollow breast, 
Can chase away the first conceived sound ? 
Hide not thy poison with such sugared words. 

Sec. Part Hen. VI. Act iii. Sc. 2. 

8 A most solemn and inviolable form of adjuration. So — 
ft Seiv ayvov a&cti;. — (Ed. Tyr. 830. 

'AM' ii pXv ctyvov Iffri <roi 

JEsch. Eum. 888. 



262 PHILOCTETES. 

Phi. O words most welcome, if sincerely breathed. 
Neop. Actions shall prove their truth. Stretch 
forth thine hand, 
And once again be master of thine arms. 

[Gives him the bow, 8$c. 
Ulysses rushes in. 
Ulys. That I forbid it, let the Gods attest, 
Both for the Atridse, and th' united host ! 

Phi. Whose voice is this, my son? And do I hear, 
Indeed, Ulysses? 

Ulys. Know thou one is nigh, 
Who yet will drag thee to the plains of Troy, 
Whether Achilles' son consent, or not. 

Phi. Not unavenged, if well this dart be aimed. 
Neop. 9 No — aim it not ! O, by the Gods, for- 
bear. 
Phi. Nay — by the Gods, my son, release my 

hand. 
Neop. I will not loose thee. 
Phi. Why prevent me thus 
From wreaking vengeance on a foe abhorred ? 



9 The readers of Telemachus will, doubtless, remember 
in how much more favourable a light the character of Ulysses 
is represented by Fenelon. 



PHILOCTETES. 263 

Neop. Such deed were worthy nor of thee, nor 

me. 
Phi. Know this, at least, these leaders of the 
Greeks 
Are boastful liars, dastards in the fight, 
Though trebly valiant in insulting words. 

Neop. Well — thou hast now thine arms ; nor is 
there aught 
Of wrath or censure thou canst vent on me. 

Phi. None, none — well hast thou proved the 
generous stock 
Of which thou cam'st — not Sisyphus thy sire, 
But great Achilles — noblest while he lived, 
And now the mightiest of the mighty dead. 

Neop. To hear my father's praise and mine from 
thee 
Is grateful to my soul — but hear thou too, 
What I would seek of thee. The woes which 

Heaven 
Assigns to mortals, man perforce must bear. 
But they who sink in voluntary ills, 
As thou dost now, no valid claim can plead 
To pardon, or to pity. Thou art grown 
Wild by thy sufferings, deaf to counsels sage. 
If one in friendship warns thee for thy good, 



264 PHILOCTETES. 

He wakes thy hate, and is esteemed thy foe. 
Yet I will speak, and Jove, the Lord of oaths y 
Invoke to witness mine unsullied truth. 
Know thou too this, and grave it on thy mind. 
This plague to thee the will of Heaven ordains, 
Since to the guard of Chrysa thy rash foot 
Drew nigh, I0 the watchful Dragon-Power con- 
cealed, 
Mysterious guardian of th' uncovered shrine. 
Be well assured that never shalt thou win 
Rest from thy grievous pangs, while yon fair sun 
Mounts from the east, and to the west declines, 
Till of thine own free will to Ilium borne, 



10 Serpents were often the guardians of shrines ; and more 
particularly of treasures. — 

Melius legatus adtssem 
Sauromatas rabidos, servatoremque cruentum 
Bebrycii nemoris. 

Stat. Theb. xi. 352. 

It will also be remembered that Virgil describes the astonish- 
ment of JEneas, on seeing one of these animals at his father's 
tomb. 

Incertus geniumne loci, famulumne parentis 
Esse putet. 

Mn. v. 84. 



PHILOCTETES. 265 

The sons of Esculapius there shall heal 
Thy wasting plague — while thy good shafts, com- 
bined 
With my right hand, subvert the Trojan towers. 
Now will I tell thee how I know the fates. 
We seized a captive from beleaguered Troy, 
The first of prophets, Helenus, who said 
That thus must all things be — and added yet, 
That ere the summer fled, had Heaven decreed 
The Trojan towers to ruin; and he pledged 
His life the forfeit if his words were false. 
Since then thou know'st the whole, assenting yield. 
It is a proud distinction to be proved 
The noblest chief of Greece — first to obtain 
Release from all thy sufferings, then to rise 
Sublime to Glory's loftiest height, and take 
Proud Troy, prolific of so many woes. 

Phi. Unwelcome life — ah why detain me still 
In day's fair light, nor plunge me in the tomb ? 
Ah me ! what shall I do — or how reject 
Such pleas, preferred by friendship so sincere ? 
But say I yield — how, conscious of such deed 
Can I meet Heaven's broad eye ? with whom con- 
verse ? 



266 "PHILOCTETES. 

Ye too, 1 bright orbs, who all my woes behold, 

How will ye brook that I should e'er unite 

With the Atridse, who have wronged me thus, 

Or with Laertes' all-accursed son ? 

No thought of past affliction wounds my heart, 

But fancy pictures what I yet may bear. 

The mind that once gives birth to deeds of baseness, ^ 

A base instructress, trains to every ill. 

Such words I marvel much to hear from thee ; 

It ill becomes thyself to sail for Troy, 

Or bring my succour to the foes who scorned 

thee, 
Thy Father's arms despoiling, and the meed 
2 Which to bold Ajax justice had assigned 



1 Camerarius understands this passage of " his eyes," as at 
CEdip. Tyr. 1270. Brunck seems to refer it to the stars. 
Literally. " Ye orbs, that witness every thing which happens 
to me." 

z These two lines, Brunck observes, are evidently spurious : 
for how should Philoctetes know any thing about the contest 
for the arms of Achilles, beyond what he had heard from 
Neoptolemus, who did not even mention the name of Ajax 
as a competitor for the prize ? It is, however, possible, that 
the meaning intended to be conveyed is simply this — that if 



PHILOCTETES. 267 

Awarding to Ulysses ! Wouldst thou then 
With such thyself unite, and force me too ? 
No, no, my son — thy former pledge redeem — 
Conduct me home — and thou in Scyros dwell, 
Leaving those villains, to the doom they merit. 
Thus wilt thou reap a double meed — from me 
And from thy father — nor, by aiding guilt, 
Show that thy soul is moulded vile as theirs. 

Neop. Thy words have show of reason — still I 

wish 
That, trusting yet to me and to the Gods, 
Thou from this land with me thy friend wouldst sail. 
Phi. What, to the Trojan plains, and the loathed 

race 
Of Atreus, with this agonizing foot ? 

Neop. To those at least who will relieve thy 

foot 
From this fell venom, and thy pangs dispel. 

Phi. 3 O thou whose pleading would to baseness 

lure me — 



the arms had really been given to the most worthy, justice 
would have awarded them to Ajax rather than to Ulysses. 
3 Ativov xivot amo-xs — dirum consilium dans— «««» sometimes 



268 PHILOCTETES. 

What dost thou mean ? 

Neop. A deed I deem to thee 
And me most glorious. 

Phi. Canst thou argue thus, 
Nor blush to think upon the Gods in heaven ? 

Neop. Why should I blush to seek another's 
welfare ? 

Phi. Dost thou regard my welfare, or the good 
Of Atreus' sons? 

Neop. In friendship for thyself 
I speak — and such a friend my words attest me. 

Phi. How, if thou wouldst betray me to my foes ? 

Neop. Learn, O my friend, to be less fierce in 
sorrow. 

Phi. I know thee — thou wilt work my ruin yet 
By specious words. 

Neop. Far be such guile from me ! 
Thou dost not know my purpose. 

Phi. This I know — 
The false Atridse drove me into exile. 



signifying suadere, hortari. JEsch. Choeph. 533. Supp. 187. 
Other passages are cited by Musgrave. We have given the 
sense of the passage rather than the literal translation. 



PHILOCTETES. 269 

Neop. But think, though once they exciled, may 
they not 
Seek now to save thee ? 

Phi. Never shall I gaze, 
At least with mine own will, on hated Troy. 

Neop. What shall we do then, if our earnest 
prayers 
And strongest pleas avail not to persuade thee ? 
For me— 'twere easier far to spare my words, 
For thee to live, as now, in agony. 

Phi. And let me suffer what my fate demands. 
But the first pledge, by thy right hand conveyed 
To bear me home — this, this, my son, redeem. 
Delay not now, nor waste thy thoughts on Troy. 
Enough of sighs already hath she cost me. 



TROCHAICS. 

Neop. Go we then, if such thy pleasure. 
Phi. O how generous is the word ! 

Neop. Plant thy footsteps now more firmly. 
Phi. I with all my strength obey. 

Neop. How shall I evade the vengeance 
Of the Argives ? 



270 PHILOCTETES. 

Phi. Heed it not. 

Neop. Should they on my much loved country 
Wreak their vengeance? 

Phi. I will aid — 

Neop. What canst thou achieve to aid me ? 

Phi. With Alcides' conquering arms — 

Neop. Ah, how sayst thou ? 

Phi. I will drive them 

From thy country. 

Neop. Then, O friend, 

If thou wilt redeem thy promise, 
Bid this land a last farewell. 

*Herc. Not yet, O son of Pceas, ere once more 
Our accents reach thine ear ; 
Know, 'tis the voice of Hercules thou hear'st — 
His form thine eyes behold. 
To watch thy fortunes I awhile have left 
My own celestial seat, 



4 It is hardly requisite to point out in what strict accor- 
dance with the canon of Horace is the appearance of Her- 
cules. 

Nee Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus 
Incident. Ars. Poet. 191. 



PHILOCTETES. 271 

That Jove's almighty mandate I may breathe, 
And in his name forbid thy purposed course. 
Thou to my words give heed. 
Of mine own fortunes would I first remind thee — 
What s toils enduring and what perils braved, 
I won th' undying glories, which thou seest. 
Know, toils like these to thee hath Heaven assigned, 
That fame immortal may requite thy deeds. 
When with this warrior thou hast sailed to Troy, 
First shall thine agonizing pest be healed, 
Then, judged the bravest of th' embattled host, 
Paris, the guilty cause of all these woes, 
Thou with my arrows shalt of life bereave ; 
And raze proud Troy, and to thy palace send 
The richest booty of the captured town — 
To thy loved Father by fair (Eta's vales. 
Whate'er of spoils thy martial deeds requite, 
Place as memorials of my shafts and bow 
On my funereal pyre ! — Achilles' son, 
Thee too I thus command — apart from him 



5 Hac arte Pollux et vagus Hercules 
Enisus, arces attigit igneas. 

Hor. 



272 PHILOCTETES. 

Thou canst not take the Trojan towers — nor he 
Apart from thee — bound in confederate faith 
6 Like two fierce lions, each the other guard; 
And I to Ilium's walls will quickly send 
Sage Esculapius, healer of thy wound. 
Once more must Troy be taken by mine arms — 
And O, remember, when her lofty towers 
Are laid in ruins, to revere the Gods. 
Second to this all else great Jove esteems — 
7 True piety alone defies the grave ; 
Let mortals live or die — this blooms for ever. 

Phi. O thou whose words are dearest to my soul. 
In happy hour vouchsafed, 
I will not disobey thy will. 

Neop. My purpose too in this accords with his. 

Here. No longer then the deed delay 



6 So two young mountain-lions nursed with blood, 
In deep recesses of the gloomy wood, 
Rush fearless to the plains, and, uncontrolled, 
Depopulate the stalls, and waste the fold. 

Horn. v. 681. 

7 'AgtTri $t, xav SdivY) tk, ovx. etfTroXkwrou 
Ln o ovx. st oj"ro{ evfxotTos. 

Eurip. 



PH1LOCTETES. 273 

The wind and wave invite — 
The favouring gales are breathing from the stern. 
Phi. Come, as we go, this earth will I adore. 
Farewell, my rocky home, 
Ye nymphs who haunt the watery meads, 
Thou wild roar of the hoarse resounding sea, 
Where oft within my cave 
The southern blast in hoary dews 
Has bathed my head ; — while many a bitter groan 
Responsive to my voice th' 8 Herai8ean mount 
Sent in wild murmurs on the echoing blast ! 
Now, ye pure founts, thou sweet and 9 crystal stream, 
I quit you, quit you now, 
An unexpected joy ! 
Farewell, thou sea-encircled Lemnian plain — 



8 Hoc erat, in gelido quare Poeantius heros 
Voce fatigaret Lemnia saxa sua. 

Co.Trist. v.i. 01. 
9 For AuMov t the reading adopted by Brunck, who says, 
on the authority of the scholiast, that there was a fountain of 
that name in Lemnos, dedicated to and named from the 
Lycian Apollo, we have preferred the reading of Erfurdt, 
yXvmov. If this part of the island were indeed, as Philoc- 
tetes said, uninhabited, how came the Lycian Apollo to be 
worshipped there ? 

VOL. II. T 



274 PHILOCTETES. 

O speed me with a prosperous course 
Where I0 Fate's resistless will — and the kind words 
Of generous friends impel me, and the God, 
The all-subduing God, who willed it thus ! 

Ch. Yea, let us all together part, 
Paying due honours to the Ocean-Nymphs 
To come 'protectors of our homeward course. 



10 Moigu. p.ey&hv>. Literally, " Ingens fatum." So Horace, 
Post ingentia fata Deorum in templa recepti. 

Hor, Ep. ii. 1, 6. 
After the deeds of illustrious lives destined by fate. 
1 Swr^a?. This word, which is masculine, is here joined 
to the feminine N^«k. Similar instances may be seen. 
iEsch. Sep. Theb.321, ivir^oc o-wt^. So Sophocles, t^jj 



ELECTRA. 



t2 



ELECTRA. 



Every reader of the ancient Greek drama must be 
forcibly struck with the narrowness of the range 
within which the great Tragic writers appear to 
have been confined, as to the selection of their 
subjects. The misfortunes of the families of 
CEdipus and of Atreus, with a few other legends 
of the same stamp, supplied, in a great measure,, 
that scanty fountain, out of which all were content- 
ed to draw. Thus, on the same basis are founded 
the Electraof Sophocles, the Choephorse of iEschy- 
lus, and the Electra of Euripides. Yet it may rea- 
sonably be doubted whether, in the present in- 
stance at least, this similarity of subject should not 



278 ELECTRA. 

be attributed rather to a spirit of rivalry than a de- 
ficiency of materials. It is palpably evident, that 
Euripides intends to ridicule the manner in which 
iEschylus has managed the discovery of Orestes 
by his sister Electra ; and, consequently, that his 
drama must have been produced subsequently to 
that of his great predecessor. We may, therefore, 
pronounce, without much hesitation, that the 
Choephorae of iEschylus appeared first of the three, 
the Electra of Sophocles next, and the Electra of 
Euripides last. 

To decide between the merits of the two former 
compositions would be a task not less invidious 
than difficult. If the Choephorse of iEschylus is 
possessed of more striking beauties, the Electra of 
Sophocles has fewer and less glaring defects. If 
iEschylus rises into a sublimity which is never 
equalled by Sophocles, as in the relation of Clytem- 
nestra's dream at the tomb of Agamemnon, neither 
does Sophocles degenerate into absurd and inconsis- 
tent puerilities, as in the recognition of Orestes by 
his sister, by reason of the exact correspondence 
of their footsteps. In the one there is a strange 
mixture of grandeur with meanness, elegance with 



ELECTRA. 279 

coarseness, beauty with deformity — the other is 
uniformly polished, dignified, and chaste. The 
former may be compared to the Eagle, which, in 
its impetuous and irregular flight, at one moment 
is ascending to the sun, and, at another, swooping 
downward to the earth ; the latter may be likened 
to the silver Swan, gliding in its calm and majestic, 
course through the regions of the liquid air, neither 
soaring to confront the effulgence of the meridian 
orb, nor sinking to soil the purity of its plumage 
by the pollution of the dust of earth. 

With either of these interesting productions 
the Electra of Euripides is scarcely worthy of a 
comparison. With many strokes of true pathos, and 
occasional passages of real sublimity, it combines 
a puerile simplicity which will sometimes excite 
laughter, and sometimes create disgust. The poet 
who can gravely inform his audience, that " a rich 
man needs no more for the supply of the cravings 
of nature than a poor man," and, that " strong 
wine diluted with water will afford a very agreeable 
beverage," can hardly enter the lists upon equal terms 
either with Sophocles or with iEschylus. In proof 
of our judgement we would refer to the drama itself, 



280 ELECTRA. 

while we proceed to offer a few remarks on that 
with which we are more immediately concerned. 

The point on which all the ancient dramatists 
have most strikingly failed is the delineation of the 
female character. Whether in deference to the po- 
pular opinion respecting the sex, or in subservience 
to their own personal prejudices, it is not easy to 
decide ; but the fact is certain, that, with the ex- 
ception of our author's Antigone, there are few, if 
any, of the softer sex, among the dramatic characters 
of the ancients, who are entitled to our unqualified 
approbation. The Electra of Sophocles is a 
haughty high-spirited woman, impressed, according 
to the erroneous morality of that age, with a full 
persuasion that it was her solemn and imperative 
duty to avenge her father's death by shedding the 
blood of her mother, by whom he had been 
treacherously murdered. For such vindictive and 
implacable resentment, our modern ladies will not 
— nor is it desirable that they should — make 
any allowance. In all other respects, as a sister 
and a friend, her character is calculated to excite 
an interest; — at least so long as she is unfortunate, 
and until she becomes guilty. 



ELECTRA. 281 

The gradual developement of incidents in this 
drama is admirably managed ; indeed, it is 
here that Sophocles invariably excels. Orestes, 
after an absence of some years, revisits his native 
land, for the purpose of avenging the murder of his 
father, Agamemnon, accompanied by an attendant, 
who is the adviser and instigator of the deed. 
After feasting his eyes with the view of his much- 
loved country — 

" Dulces reminiscitur Argos" — 

the old man consults with him on the most politic 
mode of commencing operations. Though he hears 
the mourning accents of Electra, and longs to em- 
brace her, yet he acquiesces in the prudent direction 
of his aged counsellor, and first obeys the com- 
mand of Phoebus, in presenting offerings at his 
father's tomb. The remorseless hatred and shame- 
less effrontery of Clytemnestra, the politic servility of 
Chrysothemis, the dauntless intrepidity of Electra, 
and the generous sympathy of the Chorus, beauti- 
fully diversify the scene, and sustain the interest till 
tidings arrive that Orestes is no more. The man- 
ner in which this intelligence is received is exqui- 
sitely characteristic of the different parties : Electra 



282 ELECTRA. 

refuses all consolation, and, on the entrance of 
Orestes himself, disguised as the bearer of his 
own ashes, a scene ensues which, for deep and 
pathetic interest, has no superior in the whole 
circle of tragic poetry. Taking the urn in her 
hands, Electra apostrophises her departed brother 
in terms of such tender lamentation, that Orestes 
can refrain no longer, but, impelled by the resist- 
less impulse of nature, discovers himself to his 
sister. Nothing can be more finely imagined or 
more skilfully executed than this abrupt transition 
from the depth of misery and despair to the trans- 
ports of affection and triumph. The exuberant joy 
of Electra, which cannot be restrained, but breaks 
forth even amidst the most important consultations, 
is infinitely more pleasing and natural than the 
cool composure with which she receives her returning 
brother, in the dramas both of iEschylus and Eu- 
ripides. 

The work of death is well managed, avoiding 
on the one hand the improbability of iEschylus, 
and on the other, the awkward and impotent contri- 
vance of Euripides. Both these dramatists, by 
making iEgisthus the first victim, suffer the ardour 



ELECTRA. 283 

of revenge to cool, and by this means render the sa- 
crifice of Clytemnestra more hideous and unnatural. 
Sophocles, with better judgement, has made Cly- 
temnestra the first to fall ; and, instead of supposing 
Electra to be present at and participating in the 
murder, only assigns to her the office of watching 
against a surprise. The covering of the dead body 
with a veil, which is removed by iEgisthus him- 
self, must have been peculiarly effective in re- 
presentation. 

One defect alone is here observable in Sophocles. 
When Electra hears, behind the scenes, the dying 
exclamation of her mother, she cries out, " strike, 
if thou canst, a second blow." This excessive 
barbarity is neither necessary nor natural ; at such 
a moment Electra, however transported with rage, 
oughttohave remembered that Clytemnestra was still 
her mother. This fault, nevertheless, is not charge- 
able so much upon Sophocles as upon the age in 
which he lived ; and it is but fair to remark, that his 
writings, taken as a whole, present the most at- 
tractive specimen of moral sentiment and fervent, 
though erring, piety, which remains to us out of the 
wreck of antiquity. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



Attendant. 

Orestes. 

Electra. 

Chorus of Virgins. 

Chrysothemis. 

Clytemnestra. 

iEGISTHUS. 

MUTA PERSONA. 

Pylades. 



ELECTRA. 



ATTENDANT, ORESTES, PYLADES. 

Att. O son of Agamemnon, who to Troy- 
Led the confederate host, now mayst thou gaze 
On scenes, which ever woke thy fond desire. 
Here is the ancient Argos, which thy soul 
So thirsted to behold, — this is the grove 
Of wandering Io, 1 frenzy-stricken maid ; 



1 'Oktt§ow^|. This word is borrowed from the Prom. 
Vinct. of iEschylus, in which drama Io is introduced. Her 
story is also narrated by Ovid. 



286 ELECTRA. 

And this, Orestes, the z Lycaean mart 

Of the wolf-slaughtering God. That on the left 

Is Juno's fane renowned, and whither now 

We have arrived, thou see'st the rich Mycense. 

This is the home of * Pelops' race, defiled 

With frequent murders ; — on thy father's death, 

From thy true sister's hand receiving thee, 

I bore thee hence, — preserved thee, — trained thee up 

To man, — Avenger of thy father's blood. 

Now then, Orestes, and thou best of friends, 

Now, Pylades, ye must resolve at once 

What deed should be emprized. Lo! the glad 

beam 
Of orient 4 morn awakes the sylvan choir 
To matin hymns of gladness, — the pale stars 
Wane on the brow of Night. Ere from the gates 
One foot shall issue, be our plans matured 



'Ayopx Avxhos, a place sacred to Apollo. AvKioq, or 
XvxoxTovoq , the wolf-slayer ; so called from his killing wolves 
when under the disguise of a shepherd to Admetus. — 
Francklin. 

3 Saevam Pelopis domum. — Hor. lib. i. 6, 8. 

4 Matutini volucrum sub culmine cantus. — Virg, iEn. viii. 
456. 



ELECTRA. 287 

No lingering pause th' important hour allows, 
But we must do and dare. 

Ores. Most faithful thou, 
Most dear of servants ! how dost thou evince, 
By manifest signs, thy firm unsullied truth, — 
E'en as the generous steed, though worn with age, 
In peril's hour his slumbering spirit wakes, 
5 And pricks his ears erect, so thou too warm'st 
Our zeal, and art thyself the first to follow. 
Now I will speak my purpose ; — do thou lend 
Prompt audience to my words,— and where I seem 
To swerve from prudence, curb my hastier mood. 
When to the Pythian oracle I came 
A suppliant, asking how I should exact 
Just retribution for my Father's blood, 
Phcebus, as thou shalt hear, this answer gave; — 
That I, devoid of arms or martial host, 
Should strike by stratagem the righteous blow. 
Since then the God's response we thus have heard, 
Go thou, when fit occasion shall arise, 



s Si qua sonum procu] arma dedere, 
Stare loco nescit : micat auribus, et tremit artus. 

Virg. Geo. iii. 83, 84. 



288 ELECTRA. 

Within the palace, — learn what passes there, 

That thou mayst bring a clear and full report. 

On thee, thus changed by years and worn with time, 

Thus habited, 6 suspicion will not fall. 

Be this thy tale, — A Phocian stranger thou, 

From 7 Phanoteus despatched, who is esteemed 

By these the truest of their foreign 8 friends ; 

Say, — and 9 on oath confirm it, that, by fate 

Urged to his doom, Orestes is no more, 

Hurled at the Pythian contest from his car, 



6 'HvShz^ew, properly Jioribus ornatum. Musgrave pro- 
poses, canis capillis variegatum. We have followed Potter : 
" Thus attired." 

T Phanoteus, A small midland town of Phocis, says 
Erancklin ; and Brumoy even translates it Panope, With 
this rendering Erfurdt appears to accord, though that it is the 
proper name of a man, is evident from 1. 663 of his own 
edition. 

8 Aopv%ivo<;, literally, " ex hoste factus hospes." Here, how- 
ever, it appears to denote simply hospes. 

9 Much trouble is taken by commentators and translators 
to clear Orestes from the guilt of perjury. Lamentable blind- 
ness of superstition, — where a hero can only be exculpated by 
implicating a god ! Phoebus, in the Eumenides of iEschylus, 
and Ion of Euripides, does not appear to very great advan- 
tage among his fellow divinities. 



ELECTRA. 289 

In the swift race. Thus let thy story run. 
First, with libations and with these shorn locks, 
Crowning my father's tomb, as willed the God, 
We, from the spot returning, in our hands 
Will bear the vessel formed with sides of brass, 
Which, as thou know'st, lies hid within the wood ; 
That, with dissembling words, we may convey 
The welcome tidings, — how in death consumed 
And burnt to ashes is my mortal frame. 
Nought will it grieve me, when in words deceased 
In act I live, and bear away renown. 
'Tis no ill I0 omen which ensures success. 
Oft have I known the wise, accounted dead 
In rumour's empty tale, to their own home 
Return once more, with brighter glories crowned. 
So would I trust, with equal fame preserved, 
I too shall shine a death-star to my foes. 
But, O my father-land, — ye Gods who rule 



The superstition of the Greeks, respecting words of good 
or ill omen, is remarkable. A striking instance occurs in the 
CEdipus Tyrannus, where the messenger from Corinth salutes 
CEdipus " King of Thebes," before he communicates the in- 
telligence of the death of Polybus. 

VOL. II. U 



290 ELECTRA. 

O'er this my country, bid me welcome here, 
And on my path your prospering smiles bestow : 
Thou, too, O palace of mine ancient sires, 
To thee I come, by Heaven's own impulse led, 
To cleanse, in just revenge, thy blood-stained halls. 
O send me not dishonoured from the land, 
But graced with wealth, restorer of my house ! 
Enough of words. Be it thy care, old man, 
To execute thy task with caution meet, 
And we will hence, — in every arduous deed 
Occasion reigns great arbiter of all. 

[Electra comes out of the palace. 



ELECTRA, ORESTES, ATTENDANT. 

Elec. Ah me ! unhappy me ! 

Att. Methought, my son, within the palace halls 
Some sad domestic sighed in stifled woe. 

Ores. Is't not the poor Electra ? Wilt thou here 
Awhile we pause and listen to her sorrows ? 

Att. It must not be. The will of Loxias first 
Must be obeyed. Now pour we to thy sire 
The purifying stream,— for this will bring 



ELECTRA. 291 

Might in the act, and victory at the close. 

[Orestes and Attendant retire. Electra 
comes forward. 
Elec. O pure ethereal light, 
Thou air, with ' earth pervading equal space, 
How many a dirge of wild lament, 
How many a blow upon this bleeding breast, 
Hast thou for me attested, when dun Night 
Withdraws her murky veil. 
Through the long hours of darkness, each loathed 

couch 
Of these sad halls is conscious of my woe, 
How mine unhappy father I bewail, 
Whom not in far barbaric clime 
Ensanguined Mars laid low ; 
But my base mother, with her paramour, 
iEgisthus, as the woodman fells the oak, 
Hewed down with murderous axe. 
No heart, save mine, with gentle pity wrung, 



1 'l<rofM>}%o<; — cui portio par datur. There are various opinions 
concerning this word, some interpreting «ij§, darkness. Light 
holding equal sway with darkness. The same thought occurs, 
JEsch. Chceph. 316, o-x.6tu (pa,o$ lao^o^ov. 

u 2 



292 ELECTRA. 

Laments for thee, my father, though thy doom 

Such pity well demands. 

But never will I cease my wail, 

Nor hush my bitter cries, while yet I gaze 

On yon all-radiant stars, 

Gaze on the orb of day ; — 

But, like the hapless nightingale, bereft 

Of her loved brood, before my native home 

Pour the loud plaint of agony to all. 

Ye dark abodes of Dis and Proserpine, 

Thou Hermes, guide to hell— thou Awful Curse, 

And ye, dread Furies, Offspring of the Gods, 

Who on the basely murdered look, 

On those who mount by stealth th' unhallowed 

couch ; 
Come, aid me, and avenge the blood 
Of my beloved sire, 

And give my absent brother to mine arms ; 
Alone no longer can I bear the weight 
Of this o'erwhelming woe. 

[Enter* Chorus. 



ELECTRA. 293 



ELECTRA, CHORUS. 2, 



STROPHE I. 

Ch. O daughter of a mother J sunk in crimes, 
Why, why, Electra, dost thou pine 
In ever-wasting woe, 
For Agamemnon, by the wiles ensnared 
Of thy most impious mother, and betrayed 
To evil hands? If it be lawful thus 
To speak, like doom be his who did the deed. 

Elec. Offspring of sires illustrious, ye are come 



* " It has been the subject of serious dispute," says Potter, 
" whether the Chorus is formed of virgins or of matrons. They 
are not once styled TragSsW; nor, on the other hand, is there 
any allusion to their married state. TmSLmbs is a common term. 
It is more consonant to manners, that the friends and compa- 
nions of Electra should be virgins." Yet the Chorus address 
Electra by the term tUvov, which would seem to intimate that 
they were older than herself; and she, as Brunck observes, 
could not be less than twenty-five years of age. However, if it 
be not more probable to consider them as virgins, it is perhaps 
more poetical — 

" Dabiturque licentia sumptapudenter." 
3 LvaravoTotruq, the same with l%uXearciTYi$. So Mcrr*)*i, Aj. 
1307. 



294 ELECTRA. 

Thinking to solace my despair. — 

I know your love, — I feel it, — in no part 

Does it escape me, — yet I cannot cease 

To weep in anguish o'er my Father's fall. 

But ye, whose gentle bosoms well requite 

The love that warms mine own, 

O leave me, leave me, to indulge my woe ! 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Ch. And yet from Pluto's lake, man's common home, 
Thy sire thou never canst redeem 
By shrieks or fervent prayers. 

But thou, meanwhile, from temperate grief impelled 
To ceaseless tears, art sinking in despair! 
When from thy sorrows no release remains, 
Why cherish thus intolerable woe ? 

Elec. Senseless were he who could so soon forget 
A parent's miserable doom ! 
And more congenial to a soul like mine 
Is she who mourns for Itys, — Itys still, 
The timid bird, sad "messenger of Jove. 



4 Aioq ayyeXoi;. But this appellation is the exclusive pro- 
perty of the eagle. Can it mean " Veris nuntius," Ato? being 
taken for <k verni temporis?" The emendation, etago? ayysAe?, 



ELECTRA. 295 

O wretched s Niobe, thee too I deem 

Divine, in rocky tomb 

Who dost for ever weep, for ever sigh ! 

STROPHE II. 

Ch. Yet, daughter, not alone on thee 
Of mortal birth such ills descend ; 
In this thy griefs transcend not theirs within, 
Sprung from one source, to thee by birth allied. 
This doth Chrysothemis endure, 
This Iphianassa bears, 

And He, whose youthful spring in secret wanes, 
Whom, yet with glory crowned, 
May proud Mycenae's towers 
Greet to his throne restored, by favouring Jove 
Led to his native land, thy loved Orestes. 

Elec. Whom I unceasingly await, unblest 



is inadmissible on account of the metre. The nightingale, 
says Erfurdt, is called the messenger of Jove, because she is 
the messenger of spring, and Jove is the director of the seasons. 
With this solution we must, perforce, be satisfied. 

5 We need hardly refer to the exquisite description of Niobe 
in the Antigone, vol. i. p. 261. So Ovid. M etam. iii. 6, 311. 
Fixa cacumine montis 
Liquitur, et lacrymas etiamnum marmora manant. 



296 EL'ECTRA. 

With smiling children and connubial love,— 

In tears dissolved, and still oppressed 

With unexhausted woe, — while he forgets 

My cares, my fond instructions. What, oh what 

Of faithless tidings hath not mocked mine ear? 

He still desires to come, 

Desiring, yet delays. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Ch. Nay, daughter, cheer thee, cheer thee yet! 
Still in yon starry heaven supreme 
Jove, all-beholding, all-directing, dwells. 
To him commit thy vengeance, nor indulge 
This bitter vehemence of wrath ; 
Nor yet thy wrongs forget. 
Time is a god who blunts the edge of woe. i) 
Since nor on Crisa's pastured shore 
Delays the martial son 
Of Agamemnon, never to return, 
Nor the stern God who rules in Acheron. 

Elec. Yet of mine earthly date long space hath 
passed 
In hope, vain hope, nor can I yet endure, 
Who pine in orphan wretchedness, 
Whom no kind friend with manly might upholds. 



ELECTRA. 297 

Scorned like some foreign slave, despised I tread 
The palace of my fathers, in the garb 
Of servitude arrayed, 
With scanty food sustained. 

STROPHE III. 

Ch. Sad was indeed the voice of his return, 
Sad in thy father's halls the groan, 
When from the brazen axe unsparing fell 
The adverse blow of death. — 
'Twas 6 falsehood prompted, lust fulfilled the deed. 
A deed of horror, fearfully conceived, 
Whether a God these acts of darkness wrought, 
Or one of mortal race ! 

Elec. O day, of all that ever shone 
Most hateful to my soul ! 
O night, O traitorous banquet, fraught to me 
With deep unutterable woes,' 
When my unhappy sire 
Met from two murderous hands th' inglorious death; 



6 iEgisthus and Clytemnestra are said to have watched 
Agamemnon, as he came out of the bath, when they threw 
over his head a shirt without any opening at the neck; entan- 
gled in this they murdered him ; thus was the scheme laid by 
falsehood and treachery, and executed by lust. — Francklin. 



298 ELECTRA. 

Those hands my life betrayed, 

Those hands my ruin wrought. 

May He who reigns on high Olympus' brow, 

With equal woes that deed of death repay ; 

Never may joy and peace accordant smile 

On those who dared the crime. 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

Ch. Bethink thee yet, nor still indulge thy wrath. 
Hast thou no thought, from what a height 
Already hast thou fallen into woes 
Shameful as undeserved ? 
Thou dost but heap fresh insult on thy head, 
Raising by thine inexorable hate 
Continual strife. This contest with the strong, — 
It cannot tend to good. 

Eke. By woes, stern woes am I constrained ; 
The frenzy of my wrath 
I know, I feel- — yet, maddening in my grief, 
I will not curb my plaints 
While life yet warms my breast ! 
What, O beloved friends, what lenient word 
Of hope can soothe me now, 
From whom that seeks my weal? 
Cease then, your unavailing comforts cease, 



ELECTRA. 299 

For never, never shall my woes be hushed ! 
And never shall I rest from misery, — 
Eternal is my grief. 

EPODE. 

Ch. Yet do I speak with fond regard, 
Fond as a mother's anxious love, 
That thus thou heap not woes on woes ! 

Elec. What is the measure of my wretchedness 1 
How should a generous heart neglect the dead ? 
By whom of men are thoughts like these indulged ? 
O ne'er from such be honour mine, — 
Ne'er, should I wed the worthiest of mankind, 
Could I in peace repose, dishonouring thus 
My much-loved sire, or cease the frantic flight 
Of shrill-resounding groans ; 
For if the dull earth cover thus the blood 
Of him who basely died, 
And they who wrought his fall, 
Repay not life for life ; 
Then perish shame for aye, 
And piety be banished from mankind ! 

Ch. I came, my daughter, anxious to promote 
Thy welfare and mine own,— but if I err 
Do thou prevail, and be it mine to follow. 



300 JBLECTRA. 

Elec. I blush, O friends, if from my ceaseless groans 
You deem me conquered by excess of grief; 
Yet, since by stern necessity constrained, 
Forgive me. How, from lofty lineage sprung, 
How could a woman curb her flowing tears, 
A father's wrongs beholding,— which by day, 
By night, are ever present to my soul, 
And all fresh-springing rather than decayed. 
First from my mother, her who gave me birth, 
My heaviest wrongs arise ; — then in these halls, 
Mine own ancestral halls, must I perforce 
Consort with those who shed my father's blood, 
And yield a forced obedience, since by them 
My various wants are slighted or supplied. 
Think, too, what days of agony are mine, 
When on my father's seat enthroned I view 
The wretch iEgisthus ; — see him proudly wear 
My father's robes of empire, and insult 
The Gods with foul libations on that hearth 
Which erst he sprinked with my Father's blood. 
And this, the last and most revolting wrong, 
I see th' assassin share my Father's couch 
With my abandoned mother, if to her 
I still can give a mother's hallowed name. 
Such is her bold presumption, with that wretch, 



ELECTRA. 301 

That blood-stained villain, undismayed she lives 

By the avenging Furies unappalled. 

But, as in mockery of that deed of death, 

Still when the day revolves on which she slew 

My hapless father by perfidious wiles, 

She leads the jocund dance, and to the Gods, 

Her guardian Gods, the votive victim slays. 

While I, unhappy ! forced to witness all, 

Weep — waste away, — and evermore bewail 

Th' ill-omened 7 feast that bears my father's name. 

Yet vent my griefs alone : I dare not else 

Indulge the mournful luxury of tears. 

For thus my mother, bold at least in words, 

Pursues me ever with upbraidings keen. 

" Wretch — hateful to the Gods ! to thee alone 

Is then thy father dead ? Of all mankind 

Doth none deplore his doom, save only thou? 

Ill fate be thine, nor may th' infernal Gods 

E'er grant thee freedom from thy present woes." 



7 Clytemnestra, in imitation of the solemn honours paid to 
the gods and heroes on the new moons, called, therefore, t^nvet. 
»£§«, instituted a monthly festival, with sacrifices to the Gods, 
her preservers, on the day on which Agamemnon was mur- 
dered. This was celebrated with songs and dances, and a 
feast insolently called Epulae Agamemnonis. — Potter. 



302 ELECTRA. 

Thus she upbraids me; — and if one remark, 

Orestes will return, infuriate then 

She cries aloud — " And art not thou the cause, 

And is not this thy deed, who from my care 

Didst steal and bear away the young Orestes 1 

Yet know at least due recompense awaits thee." 

Thus doth she rave, and comes to fire her wrath 

Her truly noble and most valiant husband, 

That nerveless dastard, that reproach of man, 

Who fights his battles with a woman's aid. 

While I, awaiting my Orestes still, 

To end my woes, in vain impatience pine. 

He meditates the deed, but nought achieves, 

Blighting my present as my future hopes. 

In such a lot, my friends, how hard to keep 

A meek and temperate prudence. Plunged in ills, 

Fain must we be subservient to our doom. 

Ch. Say, while thou breath 'st these words, where 
is iEgisthus ? 
Is he within, or hath he left his home? 

Elec. He is far distant ; were my tyrant near 
I could not thus beyond the portals range. 
He now is in the country. 

Ch. Then indeed, 
With more assurance can we here indulge 



ELECTRA. 303 

An open converse. 

Elec. Since he is afar 
Ask boldly what thou wilt. 

Ch. First would I seek 
What tidings of thy brother, — will he come, 
Or doth he linger yet? — I long to know. 

Elec. He talks, but does not prove his words by 
action. 

Ch. Oft do men linger in a bold emprize. 

Elec. I did not linger when I saved his life. 

Ch. Cheer thee; right noble is thy brother's soul, 
And prompt to aid his friends. 

Elec. I trust it is, 
Or had not borne the load of life so long. 

Ch. Hush! say no more, — without the palace 
gates 
I see thy sister, fair 8 Chrysothemis, 



8 Chrysothemis is mentioned by Homer, II. ix. 

Yet more, three daughters in his court are bred, 
And each well worthy of a royal bed, 
Laodice and Iphigenia fair, 
And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair. 

Iphianassa is in the original, and ought to have been in the 
translation, as Iphigenia was supposed to have been immolated 
at Aulis. Laodice is, in all probability, the same with Electra. 



304 ELECTRA. 

Of the same parents born ; lo ! in her hands 
She bears the funeral offerings to the dead. 

[Enter Chrysothemis. 



CHRYSOTHEMIS, ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

Chry. What converse, sister, art thou holding 
here, 
Beyond the portal ranging thus at large ? 
Wilt thou not yet from sad experience learn 
To curb this wild and unavailing wrath? 
I too am conscious of indignant grief 
For these our present wrongs, and had I power 
Would prove what feelings to our foes I bear. 
Now, plunged in miseries, better furl our sails 
Nor dream of vengeance where we cannot wound. 
O could I win thee thus with me to act — 
Though what I speak, not that is right alone, 
But what thou judgest. Would I live as fits 
The free, I must obey my Lords in all. 

Elec. At least 'tis shame, of such a father born, 
Thus to forget him, and subservient court 
A guilty mother's favour. Well I know 



ELECTRA. 305 

These admonitions all are taught by her, 
And not the dictates of thine own free thought. 
Choose then whiche'er thou wilt — to be unwise, 
Or in thy wisdom to forget thy friends ; 
Thou who didst late affirm, if strength were thine, 
Of these thy just abhorrence thou would'st prove, 
Yet aid'st me not, but dost impede the act. 
Say, adds not this to wretchedness the shame 
Of cowardice ? Teach thou, or learn from me 
What it could profit to forbear my tears. 
Do not I live ? In misery, I confess, 
Yet this for me sufficeth. When I pay 
Due honours to the dead — if there be aught 
Of pleasure in those honours, they are grieved ; 
Thou dost but hate them with the hate of words, 
Aiding in acts the murderers of thy Sire. 
But never, never, though the gifts that grace 
Thy happier lot, were proffered to my need 
Would I submit to them. Let" the rich board 
Be spread for thee — and plenty flow around — 
This be my only sustenance— that I live 
To gall their hearts. Their honours I disdain, 
Nor wouldst thou prize them, wert thou truly wise. 
Now, when thou mightst have borne thy Father's 
name, 
vol. ir. x 



306 ELECTRA. 

Noblest of men, be called thy mother's child. 
For thus to all shalt thou appear most base, 
False to thy murdered Father, and thy friends. 

Ch. Nought, by the Gods, in anger :— -wouldst 
thou stoop 
To learn from her, and she in turn from thee, 
The words of both might tend perchance to good. 

Ckry. To words like these, my friends, am I inured, 
Nor to her memory had I e'er recalled 
The subject — but of coming ills I heard, 
Which soon will hush her long laments for ever. 

Elec. Speak then this weighty evil — if thou 
name 
One that can gall more deeply than the wrongs 
Which now I suffer — I oppose no more. 

Chry. Nay, I will truly tell thee all I know. 
Unless thou cease thy wailings, they design 
To send thee hence where never shalt thou see 
The sun's glad light — but, 9 shut in dreary cell 



9 The resemblance between this menace and the punish- 
Bfient inflicted upon Antigone, will forcibly strike the reader; 
as will also the coincidence between the sentiments of the 
different parties, — Electra and Chrysotheinis being the exact 
counterparts of Antigone and Ismene. 



ELECTRA. 307 

Far from this land, shalt pour thy dirge of woe. 
Reflect thou then — nor when in miseries plunged 
Upbraid thy sister. Thou mayst yet be wise. 
Elec. What — is this doom, in truth decreed for me? 
Chry. Soon as iEgisthus to his home returns. 
Elec. For this at least may he return with speed. 
Chry. Why, O unhappy, on thine own rash head 
Thus imprecate destruction ? 

Elec. Let him come 
If deed like this, indeed, he meditate. 

Chry. That thou may'st feel new miseries ? Dost 

thou rave ? 
Elec. That far away I may escape from you. 
Chry. Hast thou no thought for life ? 
Elec. A life is mine 
So blest, it well may win thee to admire ! 

Chry. Blest it might be, if thou wouldst yield 

to wisdom. 
Elec. Instruct not me to wrong the friends I 

honour. 
Chry. I would but teach submission to the 

mighty. 
Elec. Be such base flattery thine. I am not 
formed 
For aught so abject. 

x % 



308 ELECTRA. 

Chry. Yet 'twere well at least 
If we must perish, not to fall through rashness. 
Elec, Nay, we will fall, if we must fall in- 
deed, 
Our Father's doom avenging. 

Ckry. But in this 
Our sire will grant forgiveness to his children. 
Elec. To praise thy counsels were a dastard's 

part. 
Chry. Wilt thou not hear my reasonings nor 

assent? 
Elec. No. May I never be thus lost to wisdom. 
Chry. Then will I hence, mine errand to fulfil. 
Elec. What errand — whither dost thou bear those 

on 'rings? 
Chry. My mother sends me at my father's tomb 
To make the due libations. 

Elec. What— to him 
Of all mankind her most detested foe ? 

Chry. And whom she murdered, since thou 'It 

have me say so. 
Elec. By whom persuaded ? who hath counselled 

this? 
Chry. From some nocturnal vision, as I deem. 
Elec. O my ancestral Gods, aid, aid me now ! 



ELECTRA. 309 

Chry. Hast thou then aught of hope from these 

her terrors ? 
Elec. Wouldst thou relate the vision, I could tell 

thee. 
Chry. Scant information can I give thee here. 
Elec. Tell all thou canst. Oft light and trivial 
words 
Have ruined mortals, or to greatness raised them. 
Chry. Tis rumoured that she 10 saw thy sire and 
mine 
Present again before her, from the tomb 
To life ascending — then in earth he fixed 
The ancient sceptre, which of old he bore 
And now iEgisthus bears, and from its top 
Sprouted a vigorous scion, which increased 
Till its broad shade o'er all Mycenae spread. 
I heard her thus relating when she told 
Her dubious vision to the radiant Sun. 
But more than this I know not, save that urged 
By anxious dread, she sends me to the tomb. 
I now conjure thee by our country's Gods, 

10 The idea of this dream is borrowed from the Choephoree 
of JEschylus, where Clytemnestra dreams that she was 
brought to bed of a dragon, to whom she gives suck, and 
who draws out all her blood. 



310 ELECTRA. 

Yield to my prayers, nor fall by utter rashness ; — 
If thou repel me now, when all too late 
Involved in misery thou wilt seek mine aid. 

Elec. Nay, dearest sister! of these offerings 
nought 
Present thou at the tomb. It is not just, 
It is not pious from that woman-fiend 
To bear funereal honours, and to pour 
Libations to my father. Cast them forth 
To the wild winds, or hide them in the dust, 
Deep — deep— that never to my Father's tomb 
Th' accursed thing may reach — but when she dies 
Lie hid in earth to grace her sepulchre. 
For had she not been formed of all her sex 
The most abandoned, never had she 1 crowned 
These loathed libations to the man she slew. 
Thinkst thou the dead entombed could e'er receive, 
In friendly mood, such obsequies from her 
By whom he fell dishonoured, like a foe — 



1 Brunck, on the authority of Virgil, (Sanguinis et sacri 
pateras,) seems to imagine that these libations were neces- 
sarily accompanied with the blood of a slain victim. It ap- 
pears, however, Eur. Orest. 115, that honey, milk, and 
wine, only were offered. 



ELECTRA. 3i I 

While on her mangled victim's 1 head, she wiped 
His blood for expiation ? Think'st thou then 
These empty rites can for such guilt atone ? 

no ! leave this vain errand unfulfilled — 

Cut from thy head th' extremest curls — and take 
From mine these locks — though scanty— yet the best 

1 have — to him present this votive 5 hair, 

And this my zone, unwrought with regal pomp. 
Kneel too — and pray, that he would soon arise 
To aid his children 'gainst their deadly foes ; 
And that Orestes with more vigorous hand 
May live, and dash his enemies to earth, 
That henceforth we may crown his honoured tomb 
With costlier offerings than we now present. 
I think, I trust, at length he marks our woes, 



a The murderer of any person, among the Ancients, was 
accustomed to wipe the sword, or other instrument of mur 
der, on the hair of the deceased, and then to wash it ; con- 
cluding that this process would wipe away the guilt also. 

3 The hair was an offering usually dedicated to the dead. 
Thus Canace, in Ovid, regrets that she was not permitted to 
adorn her lover's tomb with her locks. The same custom 
appears to have prevailed among the eastern nations. Com 
pare Ezek. xxvii. 31. 



312 ELECTRA. 

And hence affrights her with these fearful dreams. 
Now, O my sister, aid thyself and me, 
Aid him, the best and dearest of mankind, 
Our common Father, resting in the grave. 

Ch. The virgin's words are pious. Thou, 
beloved, 
If thou art wise, her bidding wilt perform. 

Chry. I will — no plea the righteous deed affords 
For two to question, but at once to act. 
But of the deed I purpose, by the Gods ! 
O friends beloved, unbroken silence keep, 
Since, should it reach my mother, I should meet 
A bitter guerdon for the bold attempt. 

[Exit Chrysothemis, 



Ch or 



us. 



STROPHE. 

If true prophetic skill be mine, 

If aught of wisdom's ray divine ; 

Soon shall Avenging Justice here 

Her own dread harbinger appear — 

With hand of might, and threatening brow 

She cannot, will not linger now ; 



ELECTRA. 313 

But soon, my daughter, shall pursue 
The track of guilt, and punish too ! 
So from this joy-awakening dream 
In confidence I fondly deem. 
At least the King of Greece, thy Sire, 
Oblivion ne'er shall know ■ — 
That ancient axe, a weapon dire 
Which laid the Monarch low 
Mid scorn and insult to expire, 
Shall ne'er forget the blow ! 

ANTISTROPHE. 

With many a foot of matchless speed, 

With many a hand of deadly deed, 

Erinnys, veiled in ambush now, 

With brazen tread shall track the foe. 

Aye, she hath marked the lawless tie, 

The bond of nuptial infamy — 

Plighted in blood — by right unblest — 

And hence forebodes my prescient breast 

That ne'er shall this portentous sign 

Pass, unfulfilled by wrath divine, 

On those who wrought — who shared the shame.— 

No faith shall man repose 

On visions which in darkness came, 



314 ELECTRA. 

Or fates the Gods disclose, 
Unless this nightly dream proclaim 
A limit to our woes. 

EPODE. 

O race, with countless labours fraught, 

By Pelops won in olden time, 

What wide affliction hast thou wrought 

To this devoted clime. 

Since 4 Myrtilus in ocean deep 

Was headlong hurled to Death's cold sleep, 

Hurled from his radiant car of gold, 

With insult fierce and uncontrouled : 



* Myrtilus was charioteer to (Enomaus, the father of Hip- 
podamia. Having been warned, by an oracle, to beware of a 
son-in-law, he refused to give his daughter in marriage to any 
but one who could vanquish him in a chariot-race. Death 
was the penalty of failure. Thirteen chiefs had already perish- 
ed, when Pelops, having gained over Myrtilus, entered the 
lists and became victor, the charioteer of (Enomaus having 
treacherously provided his master with an old chariot, which 
broke down in the course. When, however, Myrtilus came 
to demand the reward of his perfidy, Pelops threw him 
headlong into the sea; whence Mercury, the father of Myr- 
tilus, revenged the death of his son upon the descendants of 
Pelops. 



ELECTRA. 315 



Nor woe hath passed, nor dire disgrace 
Unfelt by this devoted race ! 

Enter Clytemnestra. 



CLYTEMNESTRA, ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

Cly. Again it seems, thou dar'st to roam at large, 
He who was wont to check thee — lest abroad 
Thou shame thy friends — iEgisthus is not here ; 
Nor in his absence dost thou aught regard 
My will. Unnumbered calumnies are breathed 
By thee to every ear, that I am lost 
To shame, and pass beyond the bounds of right, 
To thee and thine injurious. I, in sooth, 
Am slow to outrage, and the taunts I breathe 
Are but an answer to thine own reproaches. — 
Thy plea is still thy Father, and nought else, 
Murdered by me. Byrne? I own the deed, 
Nor would I seek to disavow the charge. 
'Twas Justice struck the blow, not I alone, 
Whom duty calls thee, wert thou wise, to aid : — * 
This Father, whom thy ceaseless tears lament, 
Alone of Greeks could brook to immolate 



316 ELECTRA. 

Thy sister to the Gods — as if the pangs 

Of travail had been his, as they were mine. 

Enough of this. — And tell me for whose weal 

He slew my daughter — wilt thou say for Greece? 

No claim had Greece to slay my guiltless child. 

Was it for Menel'aus ? yet if thus 

He slew my daughter for his brother's sake, 

Should I not claim requital for her blood ? 

Did not s two children call the Spartan sire, 

For whom to perish first was doubly meet, 

From parents sprung who both had caused the war? 

And did remorseless Death desire to feed 

On my poor child, and not on Helen's too? 

Or was their hated Father's love extinct 

To his own offspring, and were natural ties 

Dear but to Menel'aus? — Were not these 

Acts of a senseless and abandoned parent? 

Such are my thoughts, though far removed from 

thine. 
Such, could she speak them, were my murdered 

daughter's. 



5 Hesiod says that, besides Hermione, Menelaus had a 
son, named Nicostratus, by Helena. Sophocles availed him- 
self of this authority. —Pot ler. 



ELECTRA. 317 

Nought do I then repent me of the deed ; 
And, if my actions seem unwise to thee, 
Thy just resolve maintaining, blame thy friends. 

Elec. At least, thou wilt not now affirm that I 
By words of insult challenged keen retort ; 
But, if thou sanction, I at once would speak 
In my dead father's and my sister's cause. 

Cly. Take then my sanction — hadst thou ever 
thus 
Begun thy speech, I had not shrunk to hear thee. 

Elec. Then will I speak. Thou freely hast 
avowed 
My father's murder. What avowal then 
Could be than this more shameful, whether made 
With justice, or without it? I will prove 
At least thou didst not strike the blow from justice 
But smooth persuasion of that impious wretch 
With whom thou now consortest, led thee on. 
Ask now the huntress Dian, for what crime 
At Aulis she detained the Grecian host; 
Or I will tell thee, since thou canst not ask 
Of the chaste goddess. When, as I have heard, 
My sire was sporting in her sacred grove, 
He from its covert roused a dappled stag, 
Stately with branching horns, and slew the prey, 



318 ELECTRA. 

With vaunting words exulting. Hence incensed, 
Long did Latona's virgin child detain 
Th' assembled Argives, till my sire should pay 
His child a ransom for the slaughtered stag. 
Such was the sacrifice — for else the host 
Homeward, or e'en to Ilion, ne'er had sailed. 
Constrained, and much resisting, scarce he brooked 
To offer her — and not for Menel'aus. — 
Nay — for I state thy plea — if he but wished 
To serve and aid his brother by the deed, 
Was it thy part to slay him? By what law? 
Beware, such laws ordaining to mankind, 
Lest to thyself just vengeance thou ordain 
And late remorse. If blood cry out for blood, 
Thou then shouldst be the first to perish. — Thou, 
If the due guerdon of thy crimes were paid. 
Beware, nor urge such unavailing plea. 
Tell, if thou wilt, requiting what misdeed 
Thou now art working acts of foulest shame, 
With a base wretch consorting, by whose aid 
Thy guilty hand achieved my father's fall, 
And bear'st him children, thrusting from thy house 
The virtuous offspring of a virtuous line? 
How could I vindicate such deeds ? Or still 
Wilt thou allege this vengeance, too, thou tak'st 



ELECTRA. 319 

For thy slain daughter? Shameless were the word, 
E'en shouldst thou speak it — 'tis not well to wed 
An enemy, though for a daughter's sake. 
But here I may not even dare advise thee, 
For thou dost straight upbraid me with the crime 
Of slander 'gainst my mother — yet, be sure, 
Naught save a haughty mistress do I deem thee. 
No mother's heart is thine to me, who spend 
A weary life of never-ceasing woes ; 
By thee inflicted — and thy paramour ; 
While he afar, scarce rescued from thy rage, 
Orestes, lingers on his joyless date, 
Whom oft thou dost accuse me to have nursed 
Thy future murderer. Had the power been mine, 
Ere this, know well, the deed had been performed. 
Go, then, and for these words to all proclaim me 
Abandoned — slanderous — insolent of speech — 
O'ercharged with bold presumption. If my mind 
Is formed by Nature to such shameless deeds, 
My mother need not blush to own her child. 

Ch. I see her breathing rage — but if her ire 
Be just, I ween, awakes but slight regard. 

Cly. And what regard can she at least demand 
Who thus insults a mother, and that too 



320 ELECTRA. 

At 6 such an age ? Seems she not well prepared 
To dare the vilest deeds without a blush ? 

Eke. Yet know, e'en now I blush, although to 
thee 
I seem not — for I feel how ill such deeds 
Befit my nature and become my birth ! 
But thine inveterate hate and shameless crimes 
Constrain me, though reluctant, thus to act ; 
For deeds of baseness by the base are taught. 

Cly. 7 Insolent wretch — do I, my words or deeds, 
Constrain thee thus reproachfully to speak ? 

Elec. Thine the reproach — not mine — for thine 
the deed. 
No marvel deeds should find congenial words. 

Cly. So Artemis, my tutelary Power, 



6 At such an age. Does this allude to her extreme youth, 
or maturer age ? Though the context seems to favour the 
former supposition, the latter appears more consistent with 
the probable age of Electra, which, as we have already ob- 
served on Brunck's authority, could not be less than twenty- 
five, according to Sophocles; while according to iEschylus 
and Euripides, she must have been at least ten years older. 

7 ©££/*//, avauSiq — 9ggji*/*a. Animal — quicquid alitur, — gene- 
rally used in a bad sense. Blomfield. 



ELECTRA. 321 

Preserve me, as thou meet'st a due reward 
When home returns iEgisthus. 

Elec. Dost thou see ? 
Rage bears thee onward, though thoubadst me speak 
Whate'er I would, nor know'st thou how to listen. 

Cly. Wilt thou not cease thy wild 8 ill-boding cries, 
While to the Gods these offerings I present, 
Since I at least allowed thee to speak all? 

Elec. I suffer — -I exhort thee — pay thy vows ; 
Nor still persist to censure thus my words, 
For I will say no more. 

Cly. Thou on our rites 
Attendant, of all fruits oblations bring, 
That to this King due homage I may pay, 
To chase the terrors that distract my soul, 
O Tutelary Phoebus, hear my prayer — 
My secret prayer — for not among my friends 
My speech is made — nor be in every ear 
The cause divulged, which hither leads me now— 
Lest in malignant hate with clamorous spleen 



8 The Ancients carried their superstition to such an excess, 
as to regard, in the light of a fatal presage, whatever they 
heard, either mournful or unpleasing, during their sacrifices. 
Hence the expression " Favete Unguis." — Brumoy. 

VOL. II. Y 



322 ELECTRA. 

She through the city breathe a slanderous tale. 
But hear me thus, for I will thus address thee. 
This night in visions of my bed I saw 
A dream of two-fold import — if it be 
Propitious, grant me then, Lycaean King, 
To hail its glad fulfilment — if 'tis fraught 
With evils, let them on my foes recoil. 
If secret treachery plots to hurl me down 
From present bliss, O blast the false design, 
And grant me still, in prosperous peace serene, 
To guide the house and sway the sceptre proud 
Of the Atridae, circled with the friends 
Whose converse now delights me — and with those 
Of mine own offspring, who, with friendly mind, 
Nor seek my downfall nor conspire my woe. 
Lycsean Phoebus, hear with favouring mind, 
And grant the blessings which our vows implore. 
What still remains unsaid, though I be mute 
Is known, I deem, to thee, a potent God : — 
Nought can be hidden from the race of Jove. 

Enter Attendant. 



ELECTRA. 323 



ATTENDANT, CLYTEMNESTRA, ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

Att. How, O ye strangers, can I surely learn, 
If these are King iEgisthus' royal halls. 

Ch. They are, O stranger. — Thou hast rightly 
guessed. 

Att. And rightly deem I this his royal spouse ? 
Her form and aspect well become a Queen. 

Ch. Here too thou hast guessed rightly. 'Tis herself. 

Att. Hail, Queen! To thine iEgisthus and to thee 
News of glad import from a friend I bear. 

Cly. I hail the omen, but would first demand 
Who sent thee hither ? 

Att. Phanoteus of Phocis, 
Charged with important tidings. 

Cly. What, O stranger? 
True was the friend by whom thou wert de- 
spatched ; — 
Thy words, I doubt not, will be friendly too. 

Att. I speak in brief — Orestes is no more. 

Elec. Ah wretched me — This day I perish too ! 

Cly. What say'st, what say'st thou, stranger? 
Heed her not. 

Att. I told and tell thee of Orestes' death. 

y 2 



324 ELECTRA. 

Elec. Then am I lost. I too am nothing now. 

Cly. Look thou to what concerns thee. — Thou, 
O Stranger, 
Inform me truly by what means he perished? 

Att. For this I came, and will relate the whole. 
When to the noblest pageant of all Greece 
The contest for the Delphian prize, he came, 
Soon as he heard the herald's voice aloud 
Proclaim the race which ushers in the strife, 
Bright he stood forth, by all applauded there. 
Scarce seemed the starting-post — so swift his 

course — 
At distance from the goal ; and victor there 
He won th' all-honoured prize. But to compress 
In few brief words a long and copious tale, 
Such acts of might in man I never knew. 
Be this the proof — in all th' accustomed games 9 

9 UivTotSxux. — The nivru&tov, or Quinquertium, consisted of 
the five games mentioned in the following verse, — 

"AAjW.«, irooaxMYiV , o'ltry.ov av.ovrx, ttolXyiv. 

Viz. leaping, racing, throwing, darting, wrestling. It may 
be proper to notice that the Pythian games were not instituted 
in the age of Orestes. It is said that as often as this play 
was represented, the Athenians murmured at this anachro- 
nism. Yet they suffered it to remain. — The £tat>Xoj here 
mentioned was when the competitors in the foot-race ran back 
again to the place from whence they first set out. 



ELECTRA. 325 

To him the umpires gave the conquering crown, 
And every wreath his single brow adorned : 
Thrice happy then the youth was hailed by all, 
When through the hosthe was proclaimed an Argive, 
By name Orestes — Agamemnon's son — 
Who roused to war th' embattled power of Greece. 
Such was his state — but when the Gods withstand, 
No man, though mighty, can escape his doom. 
On the next morn, when, with the rising sun, 
Began the contest of the winged steeds, 
With many practised in the chariot-course, 
The lists he entered. An Achaean one, 
And one from Sparta ; skilled with dextrous hand, 
To guide the car, two Lybians next stood forth — 
Fifth young Orestes to the contest cheered 
His fleet Thessalian mares — the sixth rushed on 
With chestnut coursers from iEtolia's land — 
The seventh Magnesia sent; — with steeds as white 
As spotless snow, the eighth from iEnia came — 
From God-erected Athens was the ninth — 
And the tenth chariot a Boeotian filled. 
Standing where chosen umpires of the strife 
Assigned each station, all arranged their cars ; 
Then at the signal-trumpet bounding forth 
Each roused at once his coursers, in his hand 



326 ELECTRA. 

Shaking the reins, and straight the course was filled 
With the hoarse echo of the rattling cars — 
The dust was tossed on high — commingling there 
In wild confusion, none restrained the lash, 
Each ardent to surpass the rolling wheels, 
And snorting coursers of the rival band — 
For on their backs and swift revolving wheels 
Were the hot breathings of the fiery steeds. 
He, to the 10 utmost column keeping close, 
Still drew his axle nigh, and giving rein 
To the right steed, held in the nearer horse. 
All had as yet maintained their course aright, 
But then the iEnian's strong and restive steeds 
Whirl off his chariot, and in turning now, 
The sixth course finished and the seventh com- 
menced, 
Dash their fronts headlong on the Lybian car. 
Then the mischance of one impelled the rest 



10 The chariot-race was not always of the same length— it 
consisted at different times of four, seven, eight, or twelve 
courses or rounds. Mr. West fixes this, in which Orestes 
is said to have contended, at eight. At each round great 
skill and dexterity was shown in turning the last pillar, the 
ri^a,'. this was done by drawing in the reins of the near 
horse, and giving the other free scope. — Potter. 



ELECTRA. 327 

Each on his fellow ; broke th' encountering cars, 

And strewed their fragments far o'er Crissa's plain. 

This when th' Athenian saw, with skilful hand 

He turned without the wreck — and slacked his speed 

Till, wheeling round, he left it in the midst. 

Last came Orestes, urging in the rear 

His steeds, less swift, yet trusting in the end. 

He, when he saw his rival left alone, 

Sounding the shrill scourge o'er his flying 1 mares 

Pursues him onward, and in equal line 

They sped their course, now one, the other now 

Each urging forward still his horses' heads. 

And all the other courses safely drove 

Th' unhappy, standing in his car erect — 

When, of his wheeling courser slackening now 

The leftward rein, upon the pillar's edge 

Unwarily he struck — while by the shock 



1 Fleet horses are generally spoken of by the Ancient poets 
in the feminine gender, iruKovs 'E^ra? — Hipp. So Virgil — 

Eliadum palmas Epiros equarum. 

Georg. i. 59. 

T«j En/xij^o? thaws — 

Horn. II. ii. 763. 



328 ELECTRA. 

Midway his axle broke, and from his car 
Entangled* in the reins, the youth is hurled, 
While his impatient steeds, now unrestrained 
O'er the mid course their hapless master bore. 
Soon as th' assembly marked him from his car 
O'erthrown, with general cries they mourned the 

youth, 
What glorious deeds — what sad reverse were his, 
Thus whirled on earth, and upward then again, 
Tossing his limbs to heaven. — The charioteers, 
Who scarce could check the fiery coursers' speed, 
Loosed him, so torn and bleeding, that his friends 
Could scarce have recognized his mangled frame. 
And on the pyre they burn him — and the dust 
Of one so mighty in a little urn 
The chosen heralds of the Phocians bear, 
Here to entomb him in his father-land. 
Such is my tale, affecting to relate, 
3 But to the sad spectators, of all woes 

z T/*>jToi« r^acr*. Cf. Hipp. (Monk,) 1240. 
3 In like manner the Messenger in CEdip. Tyr. 

Of these dark deeds 
The worst is latent, since no eye beheld 
Its horrors. — 



ELECTRA. 329 

They e'er beheld, the heaviest and the worst. 

Ch. Alas, alas! e'en from its root the race 
Of my time-honoured Lords seems withering now. 

Cly. Great Jove ! what news are these ? Call I 
them glad, 
Or grievous, though most gainful ? I must mourn 
By mine own evils to preserve my life. 

Att. Why art thou pensive, Lady, at my tale 1 

Cly. Tis much to be a mother ; — deeply wronged, 
A mother slowly learns to hate her children ! 

Att. Then, as it seems, we are but come in vain. 

Cly. Nay ; not in vain ; how could'st thou speak 
in vain, 
If charged with certain tokens of his death ? 
Who, though I gave him birth, yet, far estranged 
From my maternal breast and fostering care, 
Hath dwelt, an exile in a foreign clime ; 
Nor, since he left this land, hath e'er beheld 
His mother ; but, still laying to my charge 
His father's murder, threatened dire revenge ; 
Hence, nor by night nor day did sleep serene 
O'ershade mine, eyes, but Time's unvarying round 
For ever led me on as doomed to death. 
Now, (since to-day from terror I am freed, 
I dread nor him nor her, for she hath been 



330 ELECTRA. 

My heavier curse, who, dwelling in my house, 
For ever drains my life-blood warm and pure,) 
Now shall we spend our future days in peace, 
Unvexed, at least, by her unheeded threats. 

Elec. Wretch that lam ! I now, indeed, have cause 
To wail thy doom, Orestes, my beloved, 
Thus fallen, and by a mother outraged thus ! 
Is this well done 1 

Cly. Not well, in sooth, for thee ; — 
For him, the doom he met became him well. 

Elec. Hear, thou avenger of the recent dead, 
Hear, Nemesis ! 

Cly. Already hath she heard 
Whom first she ought, and well fulfilled the prayer. 

Elec. Aye, vaunt, for thou art Fortune's minion 
now. 

Cly. Henceforth nor thou, nor thine Orestes 
more, 
Subvert our peace. 

Elec. Alas ! ourselves undone, 
We have no power to compass thine undoing. 

Cly. Worthy of rich reward hadst thou arrived 
O stranger, hadst thou checked her clamorous 
tongue. 

Att. Then will I hence depart, if this be well. 



ELECTRA. 331 

Cly. Nay, go not thus : unworthy 'twere of us, 
Unworthy of the faithful friend who sent thee. 
But enter ye, and leave her here without 
To mourn her friends' afflictions, and her own. 

[Exeunt Clytemnestra and Attendant. 



Electra, Chorus. 

Elec. Did that unnatural mother seem to feel 
One pang, to shed one tear, or heave a sigh 
O'er her lost son, — so soon, so sadly lost ? 
She passed within deriding ! Wretched me ! 
Orestes ! dear Orestes ! by thy death 
Thou hast undone me, — thou hast torn away 
My last and only hope — that thou would'st come 
In life, Avenger of thy father's blood, 
And of thy sister's tears ! — but whither now 
Can I betake me ? I am desolate ; 
Of brother and of father both bereft. 
Henceforth, in bitterest bondage must I serve 
Those, whom of all mankind I most abhor, 
My father's murderers. And can this be well ? 
O never, never, while I yet survive 
Will I with these consort, but at this gate, 



332 ELECTRA. 

Prostrate and friendless, waste my life away. 
If this offend the hated foes within, 
Then let them slay me, — joy it were to die, 
For life is woe, and I would live no more. 

STROPHE I. 

Ch. 4 Where are the vengeful bolts of Jove, 
Or where the beaming sun, 
If deeds like these beholding, still 
Such deeds they calmly hide ? 

Elec. Ah me ! alas ! alas ! 

Ch. Wherefore, my friend, thus wildly weep ? 

Elec. Woe ! woe ! 

Ch. Nay, do not feed this wild excess of 
grief. 

Elec. Alas ! thou wilt destroy me ! 

Ch. Wherefore thus ? 

Elec. If thou dost talk of idle hopes 
For those, whose dwelling is the dreary grave ; 



4 There is some discussion whether these lines are to be 
attributed to Electra or to the Chorus. " The reflection," 
observes Francklin, " comes naturally from the Chorus :" — 
and though, perhaps, no reason can be assigned why it should 
come less naturally from Electra, we have followed Erfurdt 
in attributing it to the Chorus. 



ELECTRA. 333 

To me, by wasting woes consumed. 
Thy solace seems but scorn ! 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Ch. Yet s King Amphiaraus I knew, 
By golden-wreathed chains 
Of woman was to death ensnared, — 
And now beneath the ground — 

Elec. Ah ! miserable me ! 

Ch. He reigns immortal evermore. 

Elec. Alas! 

Ch. Alas, indeed ! for most destructive she. 

Elec. She was, at length, requited ? — 

Ch. Even so. 

Elec. I know — I know. One rose whose care 
Avenged the Monarch's slaughter ; — but for me 
None, none remains, since he who lived 
Is fled for ever now ! 

5 Amphiaraus, being a prophet, and knowing by his art 
that he should perish at the siege of Thebes, concealed him- 
self, but Eriphyle, his wife, bribed by the present of a neck- 
lace, revealed the place of his concealment, and he died 
as he had foreseen. His death was revenged by his son 
Alcmaeon, who killed his mother Eriphyle. 



334 ELECTRA. 



STROPHE II. 

Ch. Wretched among the comfortless art thou ! 

Elec. Conscious of this, too conscious must I 
be, 
In woes so varied, so prolonged, — 
In evils dark as hateful plunged ! 

Ch. How true thy plaints, alas ! we know. 

Elec. Cease, then, ah cease your vain attempt 
To solace, — since no more — 

Ch. What would'st thou say ? 

Elec. Since hope no more 
Of succour or of aid can spring 
From mine ancestral line. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Ch. Death is the general doom of all mankind. 

Elec. What, and must all, like that poor youth, 
In the hot strife of ardent steeds, 
Be in th' entangling reins involved ? 

Ch. That sad event was unforeseen. 

Elec. How should it not ? in foreign clime, 
Far from my fostering hand — 

Ch. Alas! 



ELECTRA. 335 

Elec. A narrow urn contains him now, 
Nor hath he found from me or tomb 
Or sad sepulchral dirge ! 

Enter Chrysothemis. 



CHRYSOTHEMIS, ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

Chry. To thee in joy, beloved, am I come, 
Dismissing cares of dress, for readier speed. 
I bring thee joyous tidings, — hope of rest 
From all the ills thou hast deplored so long. 

Elec. How shouldst thou bring release from woes 
like mine, 
From which no respite can be found on earth ? 

Chry. Learn, this from me, Orestes is at hand, 
And know it sure as that thine eyes behold me. 

Elec. Art thou, unhappy, to distraction driv'n, 
That thou dost mock my miseries and thine own ? 

Chry. No ; by my father's hearth, I speak not 
thus 
In scorn, — but of his presence well advised. 

Elec. Me miserable ! and who declared to thee 
This welcome tale, that wins thine easy faith ? 



336 ELECTRA. 

Chry. I learnt it not from strangers ; mine own 
eyes 
Beheld the tokens that constrained my credence. 
Eke. What wakes thy hope, unhappy girl ! what 
sight 
Inflames thy soul with this unbounded joy ? 

Chry. Nay, by the Gods, but hear me ; — when 
my tale 
Is told, approve me wise, or call me senseless. 
Eke. Speak, if the tale can yield thee aught of 
pleasure. 
• Chry. Then will I tell thee all mine eyes "have 

seen. 
Soon as I reached my Father's ancient tomb, 
Lo ! o'er the mound I saw 6 libations poured 
Of freshly-flowing milk ; and, o'er the tomb, 
A coronal of every flower that blows : 
Astonished at the sight, I gazed around, 
Lest one might steal upon me unobserved. 
When lone and tranquil I perceived the spot, 
Nearer the mound I stole, and o'er the tomb 
I saw some locks of fresh-dissevered hair ; 



Here, again, we find funeral offerings without blood. 



ELECTRA. 337 

While pensively I gazed, full on my soul 

Rushed the familiar fancy that I .saw 

Some pledge of him, the dearest of mankind, 

The ever-loved Orestes ! In my hands 

I raised it ; not ill-omened do I deem 

The tears of gladness from mine eyes that fell. 

Full well I know that none could offer there 

These proofs of fond remembrance, save himself: 

To whom, save thee and me, belongs such task ? 

I have not done it ; nor, I know full well, 

Hast thou ; how could'st thou, who may'st never 

leave 
These halls unpunished, e'en 7 to serve the Gods 1 
Such deeds were never in my mother's heart 
To do, — nor had she done it undescried. — 
Doubtless, these offerings from Orestes came. 
Hope, then, beloved sister ! not to these 
Shall Fortune ever wear unchanging smiles : 
Our former fates were adverse ; but this dawn 
Shall usher in, perchance, a brighter day. 



7 In the religious processions among the Greeks, the vir- 
gins, however excluded at other times, bore a conspicuous 
part ; they walked first, led by some maiden of the highest 
rank. 

VOL. II. Z 



338 ELECTRA. 

Elec. Alas, what madness ! How I pity thee ! 
Chry. And wherefore ? Do my words awake no 

Elec. Thou know'st not whither range thy wan- 
dering thoughts. 

Chry. How know I not, at least, what mine 
own eyes 
Have witnessed ? 

Elec. Wretched sister ! he is dead ! 
Thy hopes from him are vanished ; trust no more 
To him for succour. 

Chry. O unhappy me ! 
From whom hast thou heard this ? 

Elec. From one who there 
Was present, when he perished. 

Chry. Where is he ? 
I marvel at thy words. 

Elec. Within the house — 
Welcome, and not displeasing to my mother. 

Chry. Ah ! woe is me ! Yet who, of all man- 
kind, 
Could with such offerings grace my father's tomb ? 

Elec. Some stranger hand, I ween, hath offered 
there 
The sad memorials of the dead Orestes. 



ELECTRA. 339 

Chry. Unhappy me ! in what unbounded joy 
I flew to greet thee with the welcome news, 
Of my sad doom unconscious ! Here arrived, 
I find my former woes and fresh afflictions. 

Elec. Such is thy state, indeed ; yet list to me, 
And thou shalt lighten this thy weight of woe. 

Chry. Shall I then raise the dead ? 

Elec. I mean not this 
At least — I was not born thus void of sense. 

Chry. What bid'st thou then, where I can aught 
avail thee ? 

Elec. That what I counsel thou would'st boldly 
act. 

Chry. If it can aid us, I will not reject it. 

Elec. Remember then, without determined toil 
No enterprise can prosper. 

Chry. This I know ; 
And to the task will summon all my powers. 

Elec. Hear how I purpose to effect the deed. — 
Thou know'st too well no aid is left us now 
From friendly hands; — such Death's unsparing 

might 
Hath rent away, and we are left alone. 
I, while I heard that still my brother bloomed 
In youth's full vigour, yet indulged a hope 

z 2 



340 ELECTRA. 

That he would come, Avenger of his sire. 

Since now he is no more, I look to thee, 

That thou, with me, thy sister, wilt not shrink, 

By our own hands, to shed the blood of him 

Who shed our father's blood, the vile iEgisthus. 

It is no season for concealment now. — 

How long wilt thou be slothful ? — To what hope 

Of refuge canst thou look ? — Thou canst but sigh, 

Reft of thy father's lordly heritage : — 

Thou canst but pine till beauty's vernal bloom 

Decay, unwedded still, and unbeloved ; 

Ne'er canst thou hope the sacred nuptial tie ; 

Thou know'st iEgisthus is not so estranged 

From prudence, as to brook that sons should sprint 

From thee or me, to seek his own destruction. 

But, if my prudent counsels thou adopt, 

From thy dead father, from thy brother, too, 

The praise of pious reverence wilt thou win ; 

Then, as in freedom born, wilt thou be styled 

For ever free, with worthy nuptials graced, 

For all are wont to look on generous deeds. 

And seest thou not what never-dying fame, 

If thou accede, will grace thy name and mine ? 

Whoe'er of citizens or strangers gaze 

On us, will greet us with such words as these : — 



ELECTRA. 341 

" Look on those noble sisters, O my friends, 

" Who on their foes,though screened by regal power, 

" Reckless of life repaid a father's death. 

" These each should love, and these must all revere ; 

" These in the hallowed feasts and popular throng 

" All for their manly courage must extol." 

Thus shall the general voice proclaim our praise, 

Alive or dead immortal fame is ours. 

Assent, my sister, for thy father's sake, 

For thy loved brother's share the arduous toil ; 

Release me from mine evils, and release 

Thyself with the same blow, — of this assured, 

To live in baseness shames the nobly born. 

Ch. Much need of caution in a scheme like this 
At once to her who speaks, and her who hears. 

Chry. Ere thus she spake, friends, had but 
her mind 
Been less distracted, she had well preserved 
That timely caution which she now contemns. 
How couldst thou think in such a wild emprise 
To arm thyself, or call on me to aid thee ? 
Dost thou not see ? A woman, not a man 
Art thou by birth, and weaker than thy foes. 
Daily o'er them benignant Fortune smiles, 
While we decline, and hourly sink to nothing. 



342 ELECTRA. 

Who then can hope 'gainst such a man to plot, 

Nor on themselves severer miseries draw ? , 

Beware, on us lest heavier evils yet 

Should fall, if any chance to hear thy words. 

Nought will it aid us, nought avail, if crowned 

With high renown, in infamy we perish. — 

To die is not most hateful — but to long 

For death, while death eludes our baffled grasp. 

But I conjure thee, ere thou thus persist 

To tempt our fall, and desolate our race, 

Repress thy wrath : — All thou hast counselled now 

A wild unmeaning frenzy will I deem, 

And keep in deepest silence. Do but thou 

From length of time learn wisdom, and be taught, 

Thyself thus weak, to own superior sway. 

Ck. Assent. No treasures are to man so rich / 

As cautious forethought, and a prudent mind. 
Elec. Thy words excite no wonder. Well I knew 

My proffered counsel thou wouldst wholly spurn. 

With mine own hand unaided will I strike 

The blow, nor shall it be at least untried. 

Chry. Oh had this soul been in thee, when our 
sire 

Was slain — then might'st thou have accomplished all. 
Elec. Such was at least my nature — but my soul 



ELECTRA. 343 

Was more infirm of purpose. 

Chry. Through thy life 
Be it thy case to cherish such a mood. 

Elec. Thou counsel'st thus, as purposed not to 
aid me ? 

Chry. Yes — schemes so ill contrived but ill suc- 
ceed. 

Elec. I praise thy prudence — for thy dastard fear, 
I feel but hatred. 

Chry. This I well can bear — 
Hereafter thou wilt praise me. 

Elec. Ne'er shalt thou 
Win praise, at least from me. 

Chry. Enough of time 
Is yet remaining to decide that question. 

Elec. Away — for there is nought of aid in thee. 

Chry. There is — but thou dost lack a docile 
mind. 

Elec. Go, and betray my counsels to thy mother. 

Chry. I do not hate thee with such mortal hatred. 

Elec. Think then, to what dishonour thou dost 
lead me. 

Chry. Not to dishonour— to most needful pru- 
dence. 

Elec. What, must I stoop to follow in the track 



344 ELECTRA. 

Of what thou deemest justice? 

Chry. When thy mind 
Resumes its wiser mood, I'll follow thee. 

Elec. Wondrous, indeed, that one who speaks 
so well 
Should err from wisdom ! 

Chry. Thou hast well described 
Thine own deluded state. 

Elec. And wherefore so — 
Do I not seem to counsel thus with justice? 

Chry. Justice itself sometimes may lead to ruin. 

Elec. I would not deign to live by rules like these. 

Chry. Yet, if thou dost it, thou wilt praise my 
words. 

Elec. Yes — I will do it — undismayed by thee. 

Chry. Art thou resolved — or wiltthou yet reflect? 

Elec. Than base reflections nought to me more 
hateful. 

Chry. Methinks thou giv'st no audience to my 
words. 

Elec. These are no new resolves — nor late con- 
strained 
By recent wrongs. 

Chry. Then I depart at once ; 
Neither canst thou endure to praise my words^ 



ELECTRA. 345 

Nor I approve thy conduct. 

Elec. Aye, depart ; — 
Never again my counsel shalt thou share, 
Though such thy soul desire. Tis empty toil 
To seek for shadows where no substance dwells. 

Chry. If to thyself thy schemes in wisdom framed 
Appear, so think ; — when ills beset thee round 
Too late wilt thou approve my wiser words. 

[Exit Chrysothemis. 



Chorus. 

STROPHE I. 

Why, when we view the feathery tribes of air 

8 Meet sustenance with duteous love provide 

For those who gave them life — whose fostering care 

While yet unfledged, their every want supplied ; — 

Should we from equal piety forbear? 

But no — if Themis reigns on high, 

And Jove's blue lightnings rend the sky, 



8 This cannot be predicated of birds in general, as the con- 
trary practice is prevalent among them ; it must be a particu- 
lar allusion to the stork. 



346 ELECTRA. 

Ere long shall vengeance crush the guilty pair ! 
O Fame, whose voice can pierce the tomb, 
Bear now for me a plaintive cry, 
Down to the grave, in whose perpetual gloom 
With sad dishonour fraught the famed Atridse lie ! 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Say, in their palace wild confusion reigns ; — 
And e'en their children, whom the kindred tie 
Should bind in love, fell discord now restrains 
From intercourse of kindred harmony. 
While sad Electra heaves th' incessant sigh, 
And still, abandoned and alone 
Pours o'er her murdered sire the moan, 
Plaintive as Philomel's wild melody. 
Reckless of death, to life's glad light 
She promptly bids a last farewell, 
So that twin Fury sink to Death's dull night ! 
Does not a soul like this her lofty lineage tell ? 

STROPHE II. 

Let stern afflictions darkly lower — 
The generous soul recoils from shame, 
Nor strains the honours of its name — 
As thou, my child, in evil hour 



ELECTRA. 347 

Didst nobly choose, with dauntless mind, 

A life to ceaseless woe consigned ; — 

Waging with guilt eternal war, 

That on thine honoured name might rest 

A double meed — approved by far 

At once the wisest daughter, and the best. 

ANTISTROPHE II. 

Oh mayst thou live in regal might, 

As much exalted o'er thy foes 

As now immersed in heavier woes ! 

Since, though from Glory's envied height 

Plunged deep in ills, I found thee still 

Spurning a guilty tyrant's will ; — 

Found, that in every law divine 

Which blooms with holiest awe above, 

A stedfast piety was thine — 

The love of honour, and the fear of Jove. 

Enter Attendant and Orestes. 



ORESTES, ATTENDANT, ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

Or. Inform us, strangers, have we heard aright, 



348 ELECTRA. 

And will this path direct us where we seek ? 

Ch. What dost thou ask, and whom desire to 

find? 
Or. Long since I asked where King iEgisthus 

dwells. 
Ch. Right is thy path, and faithful was the guide. 
Or. Which then of you will now announce 
within 
The wished arrival of our welcome train ? 

Ch. If to their race the next in blood allied 
May do thy bidding best, behold her here. 
Or. Go then within, O lady, and report 
Some strangers, sent from Phocis, seek iEgisthus. 

Elec. Unhappy me ! they cannot sure arrive 
With certain proofs of all we lately heard ? 

Or. What thou hast heard I know not — Stro- 
phius old, 
Despatched me here with tidings of Orestes. 

Elec. What tidings, stranger ? How I dread to 

hear thee ! 
Or. In the brief compass of this narrow urn 
We bear the last sad relics of the dead. 

Elec. O miserable me ! Tis now too plain — 
I see th' undoubted symbols of my woe. 
Or. If for Orestes these thy tears are shed, 



ELECTRA. 349 

Know, in this vase repose his poor remains. 

Eke. give me, stranger, give me, by the Gods, 
If here indeed his relics are enshrined, 
In these sad hands to hold the mournful urn, 
That o'er myself, and all my hapless race 
With these frail ashes I at once may weep. 

Or. Whoe'er she be, bring forth and give the urn, 
She does not ask it with a hostile mind — 
Some friend perchance, or one of kindred blood. 

Elec. Memorial dear of all I loved on earth, 
The sole sad relic of Orestes now, 
Ah with what different hopes I sent thee forth, 
And with what grief receive thee ! In my hands 
I bear thee — nothing now — yet from these halls, 
I sent thee forth, dear boy ! in youth's fair bloom. 

had I earlier died, ere with these hands 

1 stole and sent thee to a foreign land, 

And saved thy life from murder's lifted sword — 
Thou on that day hadst lain a peaceful corpse, 
And shared at least thy father's common tomb. 
Now, far from home, and in a stranger-land, 
Far from thy sister exiled hast thou died, 
Nor my fond hands love's latest task performed, 
Nor bathed thy corpse — nor from the flaming pyre 
Bore thy sad relics, as beseemed me best ; 



350 ELECTRA. 

Unhappy, decked by stranger-hands thou com'st, 

A scanty freight, and in a 9 narrow urn ! 

Alas ! how vain are all mine earlier cares, 

How vain the welcome labours, which for thee 

I oft endured ; for to thy mother's heart 

Thou couldst not have been dearer than to mine. 

Of all within I only was thy nurse, 

And thou didst greet me with a sister's name — 

But now these joys in one sad day are fled — 

With thee retiring : all are swept away 

Swift as the rushing of the winged blast. 

My father is departed — I am lost — 

And thou art with the dead — yet laugh our foes— 

And our vile mother, from a mother's name 

Estranged, is raving with unbridled joy — 

Of whom in secret tidings didst thou pledge 

Thyself the doomed Avenger, soon to come. 



9 'Ev o-fuy.fi kvtu. Ki/'to? seems to signify any thing of a 
circular shape, and so may be applied to an urn. It is used 
by iEschylus to denote the rim, or outer circumference of a 
shield. 

Olpeuv ot ic'hiy.tct.va.iai TrEpidpo^xoi' kvtoi; 

Sept. c. Theb. 491. 



ELECTRA. 351 

Now thy stern fate, and mine, hath torn away 
That hope for evermore, which brings me here 
When I had thought to clasp thy form beloved, 
But lifeless ashes and an empty shade. — ■ 
Woe for that breathless corpse — 
Woe for that most ill-omened way 
Which brought thee hither thus!— 
Thou hast undone me, O my dearest brother ! 
Thou hast indeed undone me ! Therefore now 
Receive, receive me to thy narrow home. 
To thee who now art nothing would I come 
Who shall be nothing soon, in the cold grave 
Henceforth to dwell together. While in life 
I ever shared thy lot, and now in death 
I ask but to partake thy sepulchre. 
The dead, I see, are grieved no more for ever ! 

Ch. O think, Electra, mortal was thy sire, 
And mortal thine Orestes — let not grief 
Transport thee thus — it is our common lot, 
The common birthright of our race to suffer. 

Or. Alas! what shall I say? — words fail me 
here — 
And yet no longer can I check their flow. 

Elec. What grief is thine, and wherefore speak'st 
thou thus ? 



352 ELECTRA. 

Or. Is thine the fair Electra's form renowned ? 

Elec. It is that form, though worn by many ills. 

Or. This is indeed extremity of woe ! 

Elec. Why, stranger, thus dost thou lament my 
doom? 

Or. O form by sorrow impiously defaced! 

Elec. Such words, O stranger, paint my fate 
alone. 

Or. Alas, thy life, unwedded and unblest ! 

Elec. Why, stranger, shouldst thou look upon 
my state 
With grief like this ? 

Or. Nought knew I till this hour 
Of all my wretchedness. 

Elec. How learn'st thou this 
From aught that I have uttered? 

Or. I behold thee 
Conspicuous for thy sorrows. 

Elec. Of my ills 
The part that meets thine eye is small indeed ! 

Or. What can be heavier than I now behold ? 

Elec. I am an inmate with the murderers — 

Or. Of whom—what evils dost thou here imply? 

Elec. My Father's murderers, — nor is this all — 
I am perforce their slave ! 



ELECTRA. 353 

Or. Who of mankind 
To such a lot constrains thee ? 

Eke. She is called 
My mother — but with that endearing name 
No kindred claims ! 

Or. How doth she wrong thee thus? 
By violence or penury ? 

Eke. By all— 
By force — and penury — and all other ills. 

Or. And is there none to succour and defend 
thee? 

Eke. None. One I had, whose ashes thou hast 
brought. 

Or. Ill-fated ! with what pity I behold thee ! 

Eke. Now, be assured, thou only of mankind 
Hast pitied me ! 

Or. For I alone have come 
In sorrow for thine ills. 

Eke. And art thou then 
With us connected by some kindred tie? 

Or. If these around were friendly, I would tell 
thee. 

Eke. They are ; and thou wilt speak before the 
faithful. 

vol. II. a a 



354 ELECTRA. 

Or. Give up that urn, that thou may'st learn the 
whole. 

Elec. Nay, stranger, by the Gods, deprive me not 
Of this sad solace. 

Or. To my bidding yield, 
And never wilt thou err. 

Elec. Nay, as thou bear'st 
10 A manly soul, leave all I hold most dear. 

Or. Thou must not keep it — 

Elec. Woe is me, Orestes ! 
If e'en thy tomb is wrested from my hands ! 

Or. Speak better omens, for thy tears are cause- 
less. 

Elec. Can tears, for a dead brother poured, 
be causeless? 

Or. It ill befits thee to accost him thus. 

Elec. And am I then unworthy of the dead ? 

Or. Of none art thou unworthy — but this part 
Imports thee not. 

Elec. It does— if this sad urn 



Literally, " by thy beard. 



ELECTRA. 355 

Contains the ashes of the loved Orestes. 
Or. Not of Orestes, save in specious tale. 
Elec. And where then is th' unhappy youth en- 
tombed ? 
Or. He hath no tomb ; the living need it not. 
Elec. What say'st thou, youth ? 
Or. I speak no falsehood here. 
Elec. And does he live then? 
Or. Aye, if I am living ! 
Elec. And art thou he ? 
Or. Inspect this * signet well — 



1 2<ppayi s . What this mark was has greatly puzzled the 
commentators; the Scholiast, whose conjectures are generally 
whimsical, will needs have it to be some remains of the ivory 
shoulder of Pelops, (Pind. Olymp. 1.) which was visible in 
all his descendants, as those of Cadmus were marked with a 
lance, and the Seleucidae with an anchor. Camerarius and, 
after him, Brumoy call it a ring, or seal, which, indeed, is the 
most natural interpretation of the word crtpfiy^ ; though it may 
be said in support of the other opinion, that the natural or bodily 
mark was more certain, and, therefore, a better proof of 
identity in regard to the person of Orestes. — Francklin. Eu- 
ripides ascribes the discovery to a scar. It is certain, how- 
ever, that the proper signification of aQpoLyn; is a seal, or 
signet, in which sense it is used in the Trachiniae, where 
Deianira sends one as a token to Hercules. 

A'a 2 



S56 ELECTRA. 

It was my Father's — let it speak my truth. 

Elec. O day most welcome ! 

Or. I attest, most welcome ! 

Elec. And do I hear thee? 

Or. Aye, and none beside. 

Elec. Do I indeed embrace thee ? 

Or. Yea — and thus 
In these fond arms mayst thou for ever clasp me ! 

Elec. O friends, the dearest of my native land y 
Ye see, ye see Orestes, late deceased 
In art, and now by artifice preserved ! 

Ch. We see, my daughter — from our eyes the 
tears 
Of answering rapture gush in copious stream., 

STROPHE I. 

Elec. Thou offspring dear! 
Offspring of him whom most I loved on earth ! 
At length thou hast arrived, 
Found, reached, beheld, whom most thy soul desired* 

Or. Yea, we are present ;-r-yet be silent still. 

Elec. And wherefore thus? — 

Or. Silence is better, lest within they hear us. 

Elec. Now by the chaste unconquered Artemis 
Thus never will I deign 



ELECTRA. 357 

Meanly to tremble at the woman-crowd, 
Which ever dwells within. 

Or. Yet see, at least, how martial fire may burn 
In woman's breast — for this thyself hast proved. 

Elec. Ah miserable me ! 
Thou dost recall how deep a woe, 
Unveiled — incurable — devoid 
Of kind oblivion's balm, 
Was our sad doom to bear. 

Or. This too I know, and, when the crisis calls, 
Will prove these deeds are present to our souls. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Elec. But every time, 
Yes, every time is meet, as it revolves. 
To speak of deeds like these — 
Scarce can I yet in freedom boldly speak. 

Or. I too agree — what then thou hast, preserve. 

Elec. And by what means? 

Or. When time forbids, indulge not lengthened 
speech. 

Elec. And who, when thou hast blessed my sight, 
such words 
For silence could exchange, 
Since I behold thee now, beyond all hope, 



358 ELECTRA. 

All promise, thus restored ? 

Or. Thou saw'st me then, when Heaven inspired 
return. 

Elec. A more enlivening joy 
This word awakes than all I felt before, 
If hither Heaven's high will indeed 
Impelled thee to return : — 
This too from Heaven I deem. 

Or. I would not check thy transports, yet I fear, 
By joy bewildered, thou wilt swerve from prudence. 

EPODE. 

Elec. O thou, so long an exile, who hast deigned 
Though late, with welcome coming to appear, 
Beholding me, long plunged in deepest woes, 
Ah do not — 

Or. What? 

Elec. O do not thou forbid 
The transport thus to gaze upon thy form. 

Or. A joy is this, which none shall e'er forbid 
thee. 

Elec. Dost thou assent? 

Or. How should I not? 

Elec. I, friends beloved, have heard 



ELECTRA. 359 

The welcome news I dared not hope to hear. — 

I cherished mute despair, 

Nor shrieked in anguish at the first sad tale ; 

But now I have thee — I behold 

That countenance most dear, 

Which not in misery could I e'er forget. 

Or. Omit th' indulgence of superfluous words, 
Nor vainly tell me of my mother's guilt, 
Nor how iEgisthus drains my father's store, 
Profusely wastes, or idly spends his wealth — 
A tale like this would waste th' important hour. 
But speak what most may suit our present aim, 
Where first appearing, or in ambush where, 
We best may quell our proud insulting foes. 
Beware too, lest thy mother should detect 
Thy brow more joyous, when we pass within, 
But, as, for that fictitious woe, lament — 
When full success hath crowned us, then 'twill be 
The time in freedom to exult and laugh. 

Elec. Since, O my brother, such is now thy 
will, 
It shall be mine no less — my present joys 
From thee, and not myself, are all derived; 
Nor would I cause thee trivial pain, to reap 



360 ELECTRA. 

A great advantage — thus I should not yield 

A due obedience to our favouring God. 

But all from hence thou know'st — how shouldst thou 

not? 
Thou know'st iEgisthus is not now within, 
But there my mother is — and fear thou not 
She should behold my face illumed with smiles, 
My inward hatred burns within me still, 
Nor, since I have beheld thee, can I cease 
From tears of joy. — O how could I forbear, 
Who from one journey both believed thee dead 
And saw thee living ? Yea, thou hast indeed 
Surpassed the limit of my wildest hope ; 
And should my father rise to life, no more 
Should I account it wondrous, but believe 
That I in truth beheld him. Wherefore then 
As in this path thou hast indeed arrived, 
Lead as thy soul directs, since I alone 
In two things ne'er had failed — or I had freed 
Myself with glory, or with glory died. 

Or. Silence, I charge thee, for I hear the tread 
Of some proceeding from within — 

Eke. Go in, 
O strangers — tidings do ye bear which none 



ELECTRA. 361 

Might here reject, nor can with joy receive. 

Enter Attendant. 

ATTENDANT, ELECTRA, ORESTES, CHORUS. 

Att. O most unwise, of prudence all bereft, 
Have ye no lingering thought nor care of life, 
And is no inborn caution in your souls, 
Unknowing where ye stand, while perils dire 
No longer menace, but enclose you round ? 
Had I not long with timely caution kept 
The portal, all your plans within the house 
Had been detected, ere yourselves appeared. 
But o'er this danger have I promptly watched. 
Cease then this long and unavailing speech — 
These still insatiate clamours of delight. 
Enter within — delay is peril here — 
In deeds like this the crisis calls to action. 

Or. How, if I enter now, is all within? 

Att. Well. — There are none who know thine 
aspect there. 

Or. Thou hast, as it behoved, announced my 
death? 



362 ELECTRA. 

Att. Know, here a man, thou'rt deemed but 

ashes there. 
Or. Do they exult in this ? or what their thoughts ? 
Att. When all is done, I'll tell thee, — now they 
deem 
All well within-— that most, which is not well. 
Elec. Now by the Gods, my brother, who is 

this? 
Or. Dost thou not know? 
Elec. I bear him not in mind. 
Or. Know'st thou to whose kind care thy hands 

consigned me ? — 
Elec. To whom ? What say'st thou ? 
Or. By thy timely care 
Whose hands conveyed me secretly to Phocis ? 

Elec. And is this he whom, at my father's death, 
Of all our train alone I faithful found ? 

Or. 'Tis he. Forbear to ask in many words. 
Elec. 2 O dearest light — the sole preserver thou 



2 $«?. This word is capable of three significations : — 1. 
The day, or light of day, which the ancients were accustomed 
to address on the reception of any welcome intelligence. 2. 
The countenance of the old man. 3. The man himself. The 
first is preferred by Scheffer, who quotes Philoctetes, 530. 



ELECTRA. 363 

Of Agamemnon's house, whence hast thou come? 
And art thou he who saved from many a woe 
My brother and myself? O hands beloved ! 
O thou whose feet a welcome task fulfilled, 
How couldst thou thus delude me, nor reveal 
Thy form, but still distract me with thy words, 
While yet thy deeds were grateful to my soul ? 
Hail, O my father, for I seem in thee 
To view a second father. Doubly hail ! 
Know, in this single day, of all mankind 
Thee have I most abhorred and most beloved. 

Att. Enough for me. Our intervening ills 
May be perchance the theme of future days, 
And then, Electra, thou shalt hear the whole. 
For you who now are present, 'tis the time 
To act— now Clytemnestra is alone. 
There is no man within — but if ye pause, 
Remember well, hereafter must ye fight 
With these, and mightier and more numerous foes. 

Or. No more of lengthened conference — 'tis the 
hour, 
My Pylades, for action — let us speed 
Within, adoring my paternal Gods, 
All who within this vestibule abide. 

[Exeunt Orestes, Pylades, and Attendant. 



364 ELECTRA. 



ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

Elec. Propitious, King Apollo, hear their prayer; 
Hear mine with theirs, who oft with suppliant 

hand 
Have offered all my scanty store allowed. 
Now then, Lycsean Power, with all I can 
I ask — I kneel — I pray thee. Be to us 
A potent helper in this arduous deed ; 
And show to man, what righteous recompense 
Of shameless guilt the vengeful Gods award. 

STROPHE I. 

Ch. Behold, where breathing blood 
Of deadly strife Mars speeds his onward way; 
The hounds, who mark the guilty for their prey, 
Whom flight can ne'er elude, 
Are entering now the palace ; and the cloud 
Of dark suspense, ere long, shall cease my dreams 
to shroud. 

ANTISTROPHE I. 

Within these halls unseen, 

Halls of his Father's wealth, with silent tread 



ELECTRA. 365 

He steals, the stern Avenger of the dead ; 

And whetted now and keen 

The sword he wields ; — while Hermes points the way, 

His wile in darkness hides, and brooks no more delay. 

STROPHE II. 

Elec. The warriors, friends beloved, will straight 
perform 
The deed within — meantime in silence wait. 

Ch. And how? what do they? 

Elec. For the funeral now, 
A 5 cauldron she prepares — they stand beside. 

Ch. And wherefore cam'st thou forth ? 

Elec. To watch within, 
Lest, unobserved, iEgisthus should escape. 

Cly. Woe ! woe ! I die — I die ! O halls, [Within. 
Vacant of friends, and filled with murderous foes ! 

Elec. One shrieks within — did ye not hear, my 
friends? 

STROPHE III. 

Ch. I heard what none should hear, 



3 An allusion to the funeral banquet, which was usually 
spread on the tomb of the deceased by the nearest relation. 



366 ELECTRA. 

And shuddered at the sound. 

Cly. Wretch that I am ! iEgisthus, where art 
thou? 

Elec. Hark — hark — she shrieks again — 

Cly. My son, my son ! [Within. 

Oh pity her who bare thee ! 

Elec. Yet on him 
Thou hadst no pity — on his father none. 

STROPHE IV. 

Ch. O city ! — O unhappy race ! 
Now, day by day, death wastes thee, wastes thee 
still. 
Cly. Ah ! I am wounded — 
Elec. 6 Strike, if thou hast power, 
A second blow. 

Cly. Woe ! woe ! Again — again ! 
Elec. Soon may iEgisthus have like cause to 
shriek. 



5 Francklin endeavours to vindicate Electra from the severe 
censures of the French critics. In excusing Sophocles he has 
succeeded — but to justify Electra is impossible, even on the 
plea of fatality. 



ELECTRA. 367 

STROPHE. V. 

Ch. The curses are fulfilled — the dead 
Entombed in dust revive — 

And from their murderers now the copious stream 
Of freshly flowing blood 
The long-departed drain. 



Enter Orestes and Pylades. 

ORESTES, PYLADES, ELECTRA, CHORUS. 
ANTISTROPHE II. 

Elec. Now they are here — each hand is wet with 
blood, 
First sacrifice to Mars. — What should I say ?— 

Ch. How hast thou sped, Orestes ? 

Or. All is well 
Within, if Phoebus hath predicted well. 

Elec. Is the unhappy dead ? 

Or. Henceforth no more 
Dread thou fresh insults from thy mother's hate. 



368 ELECTRA. 

ANTISTROPHE III. 

Ch. Cease, for I plainly now 
Discern iEgisthus near. 

Elec. Speed, youths, retire. 

Or. Dost thou behold the man 
Hastening to us ? 

Elec. He from the suburbs comes, 
And comes rejoicing 



ANTISTROPHE IV. 

Ch. Haste — through yon doors that front us— 
haste, 
Your former deed, in truth, was bravely done — 
And now for what remains — 

Or. Be confident — 
We will achieve it. 

Elec. Hasten, if thou'rt wise. 
Or. Aye, I am gone. 

[Exeunt Orestes, &c. 



ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

Elec. On me the rest devolves. 



ELECTRA. 369 



ANTISTROPHE V. 

Ch. Better, I ween, to lull his ear 
With mildly whispered words ; 
.That all unheeding, headlong he may plunge 
Into those latent snares 
Which vengeance now hath laid ! 



Enter .ZEgisthus. 

.EGISTHUS, ELECTRA, CHORUS. 

JEg. Which of you knows where now the 
Phocians are, 
Charged with the tidings of Orestes' death, 
Who perished mid the wrecks of rival cars? 
Thee, thee I ask — whom I so long have found 
Perverse — such news thine interest most import, 
And thou from clearest, knowledge canst inform me. 
Elec. I know — how should I not? else had I 
been 
Blind to the wreck of all my dearest hopes. 

2Eg. Inform me, then, where are the strangers 

now? 
vol. ir b b 



370 ELECTRA. 

Elec. Within — for a kind hostess have they found. 
JEg. And do they bring sure tidings of the dead? 
Elec. To sight they show it, not in words alone. 
JEg. Can we, too, prove it by undoubted signs ? 
Elec. Thou canst — there is a mournful sight 

within. 
JEg.. Thy words — not as thou'rt wont— awake 

m y joy- 

Elec. Joy then, if such a sight indeed be joyous. 
JEg. Command ye silence, and unfold the gates 
For Argos and Mycenae to behold ;— 
That, if among them haply some indulge 
Vain hopes of his return, they here may see 
The breathless corpse, and curb their insolent 

speech ; 
Ere wisdom to their cost too late they learn, 
When our just wrath chastise their bold presumption. 
Elec. Now shall my part be done. I too have 
learnt 
At length the wisdom to revere my Lords. 

JEg. s O Jove, a sight I view that well hath 
chanced, 



It was the office of JEgisthus, as a near relative, to 



ELECTRA. 371 

If thus to speak be lawful— but my words, 
If Nemesis be present, I recal. 
Now from the corpse the covering veil remove, 
That I may mourn above my kinsman's bier. 

Or. Do thou remove it. Tis thy part, not 
mine, 
Gazing on this, t' accost it as a friend. 

JEg. Nay — but thou counsell'stwell, and I obey; — 
Call Clytemnestra, if she be within. 

Or. Herself is near thee. Seek her not else- 
where. 

JEg. O what a sight is this ! 

Or. Whom dost thou fear, 
Whom know'st thou not ? 

JEg. Into th' insidious snares 
Of what false men unhappy have I fallen? 

Or. What — seest thou not that they are living 
still 



lament over the body of Orestes — on the contrary he ex- 
presses an indecent joy ; this was an insult to the dead : he 
recollects himself, and, apprehensive of the vengeance of Ne- 
mesis, determines upon a friendly address to the deceased.-— 
Potter. 

B b 2 



372 ELECTRA. 

Whom thou wert now addressing as the dead? 

2Eg. Alas ! I know thy meaning — it must be 
That he who thus accosts me is himself 
The true Orestes. 

Or. Most sagacious prophet ! — 
Thy science failed just now. 

JEg. Ah, I am lost — 
But let me speak, though brief must be my words. 

Elec. Nay, by the Gods, my brother, let him 
speak 
No more — nor idly lengthen out his words ! 
How should a brief delay avail the wretch 
In ills entangled, and to death consigned ? 
Be instant death his meed— and give his corpse 
To those whose task is to inter the dead, 
5 With rites that suit his crimes, of us unseen. 
For all my former injuries this alone 
A meet and due atonement do I deem. 

Or. Go thou at once within — the contest now 
Is not of words — thy life is on the die. 



s JEgisthus and Clytemnestra were buried without the walls, 
these murderers being thought unworthy of a tomb in the 
place where Agamemnon lay. — Potter, from Pausanias. 



ELECTRA. 373 

2Eg. Why lead me then within ? Why, if the 
deed 
Be done with honour, is there need of darkness ? 
Is not thy hand e'en now prepared to slay me? 

Or. Command not thus, but to the spot proceed 
6 Where thou didst shed my murdered father's blood — 
There shall thine own be poured. 

2Eg. Are then these halls 
For ever destined to behold the ills 
Of Pelops' race, the present and the future ? 

Or. Aye, thine at least, — I am the prophet here. 

JEg. But no paternal office dost thou vaunt — 

Or. Thou answer'st much to lengthen out the 
way— 
But haste. — 

JEg. Do thou precede. 

Or. Thou shalt go first. 

JEg. Fear'st thou I should escape thee? 

Or. I but fear 



6 This example of retributive justice will remind the 
reader of a similar instance in holy writ — " In the place 
where dogs licked the blood of Naboth, shall dogs lick thy 
blood, even thine." 1 Kings, xxi. 19. 



374 ELECTRA. 

Lest thou should'st die with pleasure. Duty bids 
That I should keep Death bitter to thy soul : 
And well it were did instant vengeance smite 
The wretch, presuming- to transgress the laws, 
For then would villany abound no more. 

Ch. O race of Atreus, through what countless 
woes 
Hast thou to freedom wrought thine arduous way, 
By this fierce act fulfilled ! 



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E. 



Earle, John, Esq. Kensington. 

Earle, Percival Hare, Esq. Kensington. 

Elkington, William, Esq. Birmingham. 



F. 



Fancourt, Rev. W. L. D.D. St. Saviour's, Southwark. 
Field, Frederick, Esq. B.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 
Fleischer, F. Esq. Leipzic. 
Franklin, Rev. F. W. M.A. Classical Master of Christ'i 

Hospital. 
Flint, Abraham, Esq. Uttoxeter, Staffordshire. 



SUBSCRIBERS. 379 



G. 



Gay, Rev. William, B.A. Corpus-Christi-College, Cambridge. 

Greaves, Rev. George, B.A. Corpus-Christi-College, Cam- 
bridge, Chaplain at Archangel. 

Greaves, Henry A. Esq. B.A. Corpus-Christi-College, Cam- 
bridge, 

Gayfere, Mr. Thomas, jun. Abingdon-street, Westminster. 

Greenhill, Henry, Esq. Piashet-house, East Ham. 

Gregory, Professor Olinthus, LL.D. Woolwich, 

Gullifer, J. W. Esq. M.D. 

Gunning, F. T. Esq. Cambridge. 

Gray, R. Esq. Peckham-rye. 

Greenwood, Rev. J. M.A. late Fellow of Peterhouse-Col- 
lege, Cambridge. 

Gutch, Rev. Robert, M.A. Rector of Seagrave, Leicestershire. 

Gooding, F. Esq. New Boswell-court. 



H. 



Hall, Rev. W. J. B.A, East Ham, Essex. 

Hall, Walter, Esq. Serjeant's Inn. 

Harris, Rev. Joseph, M.A. Rector of Deene and Corby, 

Northamptonshire. 
Harris, H. Berners Shelley, Esq. Worcester-College, Oxford. 
Harrison, William B. Esq. 95, Wardour-street, Soho. 
Hart, Anthony, Esq. K.C. Lincoln's Inn, New Square. 
Harvey, Mr. Castle-Hedingham, Essex. 
Heald, George, Esq. K.C. M.A. Lincoln's Inn, New Square. 
Haughton, Moses, Esq. 86, Newman-street, Oxford-street. 
Helps, Thomas W. Esq. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 
Holmes, Jasper, Esq. Blackheath. 



380 SUBSCRIBERS. 

Hooper, William Nixon, Esq. B.A. Corpus-Christi-Col- 

lege, Cambridge. 
Hopkinson, J. Esq. B.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 
Humphreys, Ambrose, Esq. Harpur-street, Red-Lion-square. 
Hurdis, Captain, R.N. Uckfield, Sussex, 
Hutton, Henry, Esq. St. John's College, Cambridge. 
Howlett, Rev. F. W. M.A. Kensington. 
Hanbury, Mrs. Poles, near Hertford. 
Humfrey, L. C. Esq. M.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 
Hibbert, Thomas, Esq. Berkeley-square. 
Haberfield, John Kerle, Esq. Bristol. 
Hamilton, Mr. 

Head, Rev. Oswald, B.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 
Hopper, Ralph Lambton, Esq. B.A. St. John's College, 

Cambridge. 



I. 



Uiff, Rev. Frederick, B.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 

Isaacson, Stephen, Esq. B.A. Christ's College, Cambridge. 

Jennings, George, Esq. Spalding, Lincolnshire. 

Jervis, Thomas, Esq. K.C. Serjeant's Inn, Fleet-street. 

Johnson, John, Esq. Blackheath. 

Jones, David Francis, Esq. 10, Great Russell-street, 

Bloomsbury. 
Jones, William Samuel, Esq. John-street, King's Road. 



K. 



Kay, Rev. William, M.A. Magdalen-College, Oxford. 
Ker, Henry Bellenden, Esq. Old Buildings, Lincoln's Inn. 
Kebble, Rev. Henry, M.A. Woodford. 



SUBSCRIBERS. 381 

Kingsbury, Mathew B. Esq. Bungay, Suffolk. 
Kelly, Paul, Esq. LL.D. Finsbury-square. 



Lamb, Rev. J. B.D. Master of Corpus-Chisti, and Vice- 
Chancellor of the University of Cambridge. 

Larkins, Thomas, Esq. Blackheath. 

Lennard, Thomas Barrett, Esq. M.P. Park-place. 

Lingham, Thomas, jun. Esq. Blackheath (two copies). 

Loat, Lancelot, Esq. Blackheath (two copies). 

Long, George, Esq. B.A. Fellow of Trinity-College, Cam- 
bridge. 

Langford, Ayliffe, Esq. Queen's College, Oxford. 

Locker, E. H. Esq. F.R.S. Greenwich-Hospital. 



M. 



Mann, Charles, Esq. 

Manning, James, Esq. 14, Paper-buildings, Temple. 
Medcalf, Robert, Esq. 109, Chancery-lane. 
Meeson, Roger, Esq. 2, Pump-court, Temple. 
Morton, David, Esq. B.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 
Marshall, Mrs. Chapman, 79, Upper Thames-street. 
Mitchell, Thomas, Esq. M.A. late Fellow of Sidney-Col- 
lege, Cambridge. 
Maginn, William, Esq. LL.D. 
Mangnall, James, Esq. 15, Aldermanbury. 
Money, William Taylor, Esq. M.P. 
Milman, Rev. H. H. M.A. Professor of Poetry, Oxford. 
Milles, Thomas, Esq. LL.D. K.C. Lincoln's Inn. 
Mallcott, Mr. John, Newgate-street. 



382 SUBSCRIBERS. 

Mitford, Rev. John, B.A. Oriel-College, Oxford, &c. &c. 
Macaulay, J. H. Esq. B.A. Portsmouth. 



N. 



Nairne, Charles, Esq. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 
Nunn, Thomas, Esq. Sidney-College, Cambridge. 
Newport, William, Esq. Christ's College, Cambridge. 
Nevile, Rev. H. W. M.A. Rector of Cottesmore, Rutland. 
Newby, Rev. G. Wilton-le-Wear, Durham. 
Newton, Thomas, Esq. St. John's College, Cambridge. 



O. 



O'Brien, Hon, Mrs. ") Blatherwycke-park, Northampton- 
O'Brien, Stafford, Esq. j shire. 
Owen, Sir W. Bart. Fig-Tree-eourt, Temple. 
Overton, W. Esq. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 



P. 



Packman, Rev. R. C. M.A. Minor Canon of St. Paul's. 

Packe, John, Esq. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 

Packer, William, Esq. Walton, Surrey. 

Pattisall, Stephen, Esq. 'Change-alley. 

Paynter, John, Esq. Blackheath. 

Pearson, Rev. Richard, M.A. St. John's College, Oxford. 

Pearson, Richard, Esq. M.D. Sutton-Coldfield. 

Povah, Rev. Richard, LL.D. Burton-crescent. 

Pyke, William, Exchequer-Office, Temple. 

Pennington, Isaac, Esq. Clapham. 

Parkinson, Rev. John, D.D. Ravendale, Lincolnshire. 



SUBSCRIBERS. 383 

Pellatt, Henry, Esq. jun. Ironmongers' Hall. 
Pott, Ven. J. H. M.A. Archdeacon of London. 
Pott, Percival, Esq. St. Martin's Vicarage. 
Pitman, Rev. J. R. M.A. Kensington. 
Prickett, Rev. R. C. B.A. Chaplain to Hon. Trinity Cor- 
poration. 



R. 



Revell, S. Esq. St. John's College, Cambridge. 

Ranking, R. Esq. Hastings. 

Richardson, William, Esq. Christ's College, Cambridge. 

Rosson, John, Esq. 31, Surrey-street, Strand. 

Roupell, George Boone, Esq. Great Ormond-street. 

Rice, Rev. E. M.A. Classical Master of Christ's Hospital. 

Relfe, Mr. John. 

Rivers, Right Hon. Lord, 10, Grosvenor-place. 

Raven, Rev. J. H. B. A. Magdalen-College, Cambridge. 

Raven, Rev. T. B.A. Corpus-Christi-College, Cambridge. 

Rogers, W. L. Esq. Upper Bedford-place. 

Richardson, Mrs. Oxford- street. 

Ratcliffe, Rev. Dr. Salisbury. 



Saunders, Rev. Isaac, M.A. Rector of St. Ann's Black- 
friars. 

Sevier, Rev. James, M.A. Pyecombe, Sussex. 

Shadwell, Launcelot, Esq. K.C. M.A. Lincoln's Inn, New 
Square, (three copies.) 

Sheppard, Rev. J. M.A. St. John's College, Oxford. 

Sheppard, C. H. Esq. B.A. 

Sievier, Robert, Esq. 34, Southampton-row. 



384 SUBSCRIBERS. 

Slack, Miss, Crayford. 

Smith, William, Esq. St. John's College, Cambridge. 

Spence, George, Esq. Lincoln's Inn, New Square. 

Stanley, George, Esq. Old Bond-street. 

Stow, John, Esq. Greenwich. 

Sugden, Edward Burtenshaw, Esq. K.C. Lincoln's Inn, New 
Square. 

Sumpter, Thomas, Esq. Lower Thornhaugh-street, Bedford- 
square. 

Stringer, James, Esq. 

Slack, J. Esq. 

Stephens, Rev. L. P. M.A. Vicar of Clavering, Essex, &c. 

Sandford, John, Esq. Baliol-College, Oxford. 

Shelford, Rev. T. M.A. Fellow and Tutor of Corpus- 
Christi-College, Cambridge (two copies). 

Stewart, Rev. J. A. B. A. Corpus-Christi-College, Cambridge. 

Savage, Mrs. Grin stead-green, near Farnborough, Kent. s 

Sleath, Rev. J. D.D. F.R.S. F.A.S. High Master of St. 
Paul's. 

Smith, W. Esq. Holborn. 

Simpson, George, Esq. B. A. St. John's College, Cambridge. 

Smith, Mrs. Blackheath. 



T. 



Taylor, Rev. C. R. B.A. Christ's College, Cambridge. 

Taylor, Mrs. Crayford. 

Torriano, W. H. Esq. B.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 

Torriano, J. H. Esq. Greenwich. 

Trollope, Rev. A. W. D.D. F.A.S. Christ's Hospital. 

Trollope, Rev. W. B.A. Christ's Hospital, (two copies.) 

Trollope, Rev. Arthur, B.A. Pembroke-College, Cambridge. 

Trollope, Thomas, Esq. Halstead, Essex. 

Tucker, Stephen, Esq. Welling, Kent. 



SUBSCRIBERS 385 

Tod, Capt. J. Burton, near Christ-Church, Hants. 
Thomas, Rev. John, B. A. Corpus-Christi-College, Cambridge. 
Tuthill, Sir George, 19, Cavendish-square. 



V. 

Ventouillac, L. T. Esq. Hadlow-street, Brunswick-square. 

W. 

Wainwright, Rev. Latham, M.A. F.A.S. Rector of Great 
Brickill, Bucks. 

Wainwright, Arnold, Esq. Calcot, near Reading. 

Wainwright, Robert, Esq. Gray's Inn. 

Waller, Sir Wathen, Bart. Pope's Villa, Twickenham. 

Waller, T. Wathen, Esq. Brazen-Nose-College, Oxford. 

Wardell, Rev. Henry, B.A. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 

Warren, Rev. Z. Shrapnel, M.A. Sidney-Sussex-College, 
Cambridge. 

Wayet, Rev. John, B.A. Vicar of Pinchbeck, Lincolnshire. 

Wesley, Rev. Charles, Christ's College, Cambridge. 

Wight, J. W. Esq. Manor-House, East Ham. 

Wilson, Rev. Joseph. M.A. Rector of Laxton, Northamp- 
tonshire, 

Winder, Rev. Edmund, M.A. Corpus-Christi-College, 
Cambridge. ' 

Wingfield, William, Esq. K.C. Bloomsbury-square. 

Wix, Edward, Esq. Trinity-College, Oxford. 

White, Rev. Thomas, M.A. Crayford, Kent. 

Woodifield, M. Esq. St. John's College, Cambridge. 

Wrench, Rev. T. R. M.A. Rector of St. Michael's, Cornhill. 

Welch, W. Esq. Stansted, Essex. 

Ward, Rev. Patrick, M.A. Exeter-College, Oxford. 
VOL. ii. C c 



386 SUBSCRIBERS. 

Wix, William, Esq. F.R.S. Islington. 

Wilson, Samuel, Esq. Tyndale-place, Islington. 

West, Joseph, Esq. Blackkeath. 

Williams, John Bickerton, Esq. Shrewsbury. 

Wills, William, Esq. Birmingham. 

Warren, J. C. Esq. Sidney-Sussex-College, Cambridge, 

Webb, Richard, Esq. Plashet-Hall, East Ham. 

Willmore, Graham, Esq. Trinity-College, Cambridge. 

Warburton, John, Esq. Hackney. 

Wetherell, B. J. Esq. WalkMill-House, Yorkshire. 



Y. 



Young, John, Esq. Deptford, (three copies). 

Young, Adam, jun. Esq. Vanburgh-fields, Blackheathv 



THE END, 



MERCHANT, FRINTKK, INGE A M-CO U RT, PEN CH UHCH-STRBtT. 



Library of Congress 
Branch Bindery, 1902 



* 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




